


close your eyes and surrender

by myeyesarenotblue



Series: Nighttime [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Pre-Canon, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Temporary Character Death, Vanya Hargreeves discovers her powers earlier, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myeyesarenotblue/pseuds/myeyesarenotblue
Summary: She can’t lose another brother.“Hey, I’ve got a crazy idea” Vanya says. “If you promise me you won’t get high or drunk again, I promise you I’ll stop taking my pills too”Klaus laughs, a little humorlessly. “What? Like some fucked up sobriety pact? I quit my drugs and you quit daddy dearest’s mystery pills?”





	1. You're crazy

**Author's Note:**

> do i know where i'm going with this? no

 

It all starts after Ben’s funeral.

Vanya’s crying, and crying, and crying, and there’s nothing she wants do more than to crawl into her bed and sleep for maybe an entire week, but she doesn’t. She carries on sitting in front of the new statue, crying and crying and clutching a copy of Ben’s favorite book to her chest.  

She doesn’t know what to do now, because first it was Five, and now it’s Ben and Vanya's so, so, so alone. And she was always a little terrified for her siblings’ safety whenever a mission alarm blared but she never actually thought-  

They aren’t allowed to die. They aren’t allowed to die, Ben promised he wasn’t going to leave her alone, ever, and now Ben’s dead and Vanya’s alone.

“Hey, sister dear, don’t you want to come inside?” Klaus says somewhere to her left, and she jumps, startled. “Luther and Diego are about to kill each other. It’ll be super fun to watch”

“Uh, no-” Vanya says, wiping her eyes. “Thanks, but I think I want to stay here a little longer”  

Klaus frowns, and then he promptly sits cross-legged next to her.  

They stare at the statue together, in silence, and Vanya wonders what’s going through Klaus’ head. He’s always been a little too sensitive, too emotional, and Vanya worries for him. It’s been less than three days since Ben died, and she can already smell the booze and the weed and the god-knows-what-else on his breath.  

Vanya sighs, after a moment. “Are you ok?”

“What a dumb inscription dad picked, huh?” Klaus says, instead of answering the question. “It makes it sound like Ben killed himself or something”

_May the darkness within you find peace in the light._  

“I hadn’t thought about it like that, I think dad meant the-” Vanya gestures vaguely to her stomach. They’re not really sure how Ben died, but the popular consensus seems to be that he lost control of the Horror, that the stupid creature went a little too far with its bloodlust and turned on Ben.  

Vanya doesn’t want to think about it.  

She reaches into her pocket and grabs her pills. If there’s a moment to take them, it’s now, because if she keeps thinking about Ben, cornered alone in a mission, forced to fight against whatever goons they were fighting _and_ the monster that lived inside him, she’s going to scream, she’s going to scream and cry and go crazy.  

She takes out a pill, puts it on her hand, lifts it towards her mouth-

“Hey, can I have some of that?” Klaus asks, eyeing her pill bottle.  

Vanya drops the pill. “ _What?_ ”

“Oh, c’mon,” Klaus whines. “How come you get to be high 24/7, but if I want to take something suddenly it’s all _you’re poisoning yourself, Klaus_ or _you’re going to overdose and die, Klaus_? I want some of your magic pills”  

“Klaus,” Vanya says sharply. “Everyone tells you that because you _are_ poisoning yourself, and you overdosed once already, remember?”

It happened a couple months ago, and they only got to him in time because Klaus had locked himself in the bathroom, and Allison had left her hair straightener inside and wanted to use it. Vanya remembers, how Allison started annoyed, knocking again and again, thinking that Klaus was just being stubborn, but then-

But then, it had been, five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes and there wasn’t a single sound coming from the inside bathroom and by the time Luther knocked down the door, Klaus’ lips were already turning purple and he barely had a pulse.

It wasn’t pretty.

Klaus laughs, and it’s a humorless sound. “Vanya, dear, these pills that you’re taking? They’re anti-anxiety, aren’t they?”  

Vanya nods.  

“Well, sis, let me tell you that during that little faux pas that I refuse to call overdose, I was enjoying the marvelous modern miracle that is Xanax, so there’s that”  

“So what? My pills are prescribed, Klaus, it’s not like I’m going to-”

Klaus huffs. “Forget it, I’ll find a hit elsewhere”  

That’s-

_No._

Klaus pulls himself to his feet and starts walking away towards the house. Vanya glances one last time at Ben’s statue and then follows after him. “Hey, no, wait-”

“What?” Klaus asks, clearly exasperated.  

Vanya looks at him, really looks. Klaus’ eyes are red rimmed, she doesn’t know if it is because of the drugs or because of the nonstop crying they’ve all been doing, he’s shaking a little bit, and she’d think it’s because of the cold and raining from the past couple of days, but he’s wearing a thick jacket.  

He doesn’t look good.  

Vanya reaches to grab his hand tentatively. “Klaus, are you ok?”

He smiles one of his sharp smiles, and for second, she thinks he’s going to crack a joke and push her away like he always does, but then he opens his mouth to speak and the only thing that comes out is a choked and cracked noise.  

Klaus shakes his head side to side, tears spilling down his cheeks, and wordlessly pulls her into a hug.  

Vanya realizes she hasn’t hugged her brother since they were little kids and they were all more or less the same height, because now, hugging him, she feels a little ridiculous. He’s at least two heads taller than her now and Vanya knows she’s stupidly short, so even though she’s stepping on her tiptoes and he’s curling in on himself, she still isn’t able to tuck Klaus’ head under her neck the way she’d like.  

“He’s dead,” Klaus chokes out. “Vanya, he’s dead”

Vanya rubs his arms through his jacket. “Yeah, yeah, I know”

 

*

 

Vanya can’t sleep that night.  

She hasn’t slept much the last three nights, either.  

There’s just something about knowing her brother won’t be ever coming home that doesn’t let her close her eyes without picturing him lying in a pool of his own blood.

She sighs, and burrows deeper into her bedsheets.  

This is worse than when Five went missing, she thinks, because then, she always had hope, hope that Five had simply ran away and that he’d come back one day, hope that she’d see him again. And even though she’s lost that hope over the years and she just knows he’s got to be dead by now, it wasn’t as horrible and traumatic as being woken up one day and told Ben was gone for good.

Ben’s gone for good.  

Fuck.

Vanya’s distracted from her thoughts by the sound of her door handle being twisted open.  

She squints through the dark and only barely makes out the figure of Klaus, opening her door and slipping inside her bedroom. He doesn’t burst in and jump straight into her bed, though, like he does when the ghosts are giving him trouble and he can’t sleep. No, he walks deliberately slowly, without making a sound, and Vanya decides to pretend to be asleep and sneak glances every now and then, just to see what he’ll do.

Klaus goes around her bed, to her bedside table, and opens drawer after drawer, digging through her things and groaning under his breath when he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for. Vanya watches him as he gives up with the drawers and starts poking at her desk, her pile of laundry, under her bed, until-  

Vanya sits up abruptly. “Klaus!”  

“ _Jesus, fuck-!_ ” Klaus straight up yells out, and drops her pill bottle, her very open pill bottle, with her pills, that he was about to fucking pop into his mouth as if they’re candy. “Warn a guy, would you?”  

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Vanya asks, horrified.  

Klaus winces. “Uh, I wanted to check on my favorite sister?”   

Vanya turns on her bedside lamp, and turns to look at him incredulously. “You were going to steal my pills, weren’t you?”

Klaus scoffs, and wordlessly starts picking the pills from the floor and putting them back into the bottle. His hands are shaking almost violently. “Well, not with that attitude, sister dear”

Vanya groans.  

She doesn’t want to add Klaus’ kleptomania into the things she’s got to worry about, but there’s no way she’s ever going to relax and sleep now, or ever for that matter, knowing that Klaus could be trying to steal her pills.  

She thinks about him, unconscious and lying painfully still in that bathtub all those months ago.  

She thought he was dead.  

She can’t lose another brother.  

“God, I can’t believe you” Vanya mutters, mostly to herself.  

She turns to look at Klaus, and there he is, with most of the pills already back in the bottle and safe in her bedside table, but he’s holding, one, two, three, four on his hand. “Don’t you dare” Vanya says, warningly. “Klaus, don’t you dare put that in your mouth”

But Klaus only flickers his eyes up to meet hers for half a second before promptly shoving the pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry. “ _No, you-_ ” Vanya screams, and throws herself at him to try and make him puke or something, even though she knows there’s no point now.  

He coughs and sputters around the pills, pushing her away while laughing like a maniac. Vanya fights him for a minute or two, but after realizing he can literally hold her away at arm's length without much effort, she gives up and ends up sitting shoulder to shoulder next to him on her bedroom’s floor.  

“I hate you so much”  

“Love you too, sis”

 

*

 

The next morning Vanya wakes up to find Klaus passed out cold on the floor next to her bed. She sits up and pokes him with her foot. “Wake up, we’re going to be late for breakfast”

Klaus swats her away for a while, but after the fourth or fifth time Vanya kicks him, he groggily pulls himself up until he’s more or less sitting upright. He glares at her pill bottle from where it’s sitting innocently on her bedside table. “Ugh, what the fuck is that?” Klaus groans.

Vanya blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying that when I pop four of Xanax, I don’t feel so much like dying” he says, clutching his head and bilking again and again as if he can’t get his eyes to work properly. “Vanya, I’ve seen you down the entire bottle in less than a week, how the fuck do you not feel like shit all the time?”

“I, uh- I'm used to it, I guess?” Vanya says, smartly.  

She doesn’t think her pills are that bad. In fact, these days, she barely feels any different when she takes a high dosage than when she takes a small one, and it’s a little disconcerting to see Klaus of all people having a hard time with the medication she’s been taking since before she can remember.  

“Well, unlike you, sis, I’m not a superhuman-” Klaus giggles, probably remembering that out of the two, only one of them has a superpower and it isn’t her. “I don’t think I could stomach your magic pills ever again, so rest easy, my friend, I’m not going to steal from you in the foreseeable future”  

Vanya sighs in relief because that’s so _good, good, good_ \-  

“Although, maybe if I only took two, though-”

“Klaus!” Vanya says. She kneels down to sit in front of him. “Klaus, I need you to swear to me that you’re not going to steal my pills ever again”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine, sorry, it’s just- I was out of literally everything last night, sis, it was your pills or snorting something from the kitchen”

Vanya sighs, catches sight of Ben’s book lying on the floor, Klaus must have knocked it down yesterday when he was going through her things. She thinks Ben would be sporting that expression on his face if he could hear what Klaus is saying right now, the one that simultaneously says _you’re an idiot and I can’t believe we’re related_ and _holy shit, I'm so scared for you_.

Vanya’s scared for Klaus, too.  

“Hey, don’t you think you’re taking the drug thing too far?” Vanya asks, softly, tentatively. They don’t really talk about this, the fact that Klaus is an addict is one of those elephants in the room that nobody quite knows how to address. “You’re telling me you can’t go a single day without taking something?”

Almost immediately, Klaus’ posture goes guarded, stiff, and any trace of emotion is wiped from his face only to be replace by one of his fake smiles. “Why, sister dear?” he says, snarking. “You’re gonna give me advice, one junkie to another?”  

“What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, you’re always doped up” Klaus says, and his voice turns a cold. “I figured you of all people wouldn’t judge me for needing a little pick me up, but I guess I was wrong, huh? Only sweet little Vanya’s allowed to numb her feelings but the rest of us have to toughen up and deal with our shit the old-fashioned way, except we aren’t allowed to lose it either”

Vanya takes a second to regard him.  

Before, she would’ve thought that Klaus was just being mean for the sake of it, because he’s Four and she’s Seven, and Seven doesn’t deserve kindness from her siblings, but she thinks, she thinks maybe Klaus is lashing out now because he’s grieving and it’s a hell of a lot easier to yell at her than to face the fact that Ben’s never coming back. She understands, kind of.  

But the thing is, she’ll never in a million years understand why he keeps drugging himself. She thinks about him, limp in Luther’s arms while he got dragged away to the infirmary, Mom telling them he might not make it, that they should prepare themselves in case Klaus never woke up again-

She can’t lose another brother.  

“Hey, I’ve got a crazy idea” Vanya says. “If you promise me you won’t get high or drunk again, I promise you I’ll stop taking my pills too”

Klaus laughs, a little humorlessly. “What? Like some fucked up sobriety pact? I quit my drugs and you quit daddy dearest’s mystery pills?”  

“Yeah, exactly like that” Vanya says. “I haven’t gone a single day without taking them since I was like, four-years-old, so- it'll suck just as much for me than for you. Maybe my suffering will inspire you”  

“You’re crazy” Klaus says.  

“Maybe”

His eyes dart to the side, like when he’s listening to a ghost, except this time he doesn’t look scared, or disgusted, or freaked out in the slightest. Maybe he’s still too doped up on her pills to feel anything but indifference towards his ghosts. “Klaus?” she asks, after a while.  

He turns to look at her. “Yeah, yeah, why the hell not? Should we swear on blood or on spit? What did you have in mind, sister dear?”  

Vanya smiles.

Maybe it isn’t the smartest thing to quit her pills cold turkey, but she’ll do it for Klaus, even if it only keeps him sober for a couple days or a couple weeks. After all, what’s the worst thing that could happen?


	2. What the fuck was that?

Vanya stops taking her pills, and for the next week or so, she gets random moments when she feels stupidly sad and alone and overwhelmed by absolutely everything. She doesn’t know, though, whether she feels like that because she stopped taking the mood-altering medication she’s been on since she was kid, or if it is because Ben is dead and every time she closes her eyes she keeps seeing his casket being lowered into the ground.

She figures it’s a little bit of both.

 

*

 

She pads down to the kitchen one night, to grab a glass of water and then go the fuck back to sleep. But when she passes by the living room she stops dead on her tracks. “Klaus?” He’s standing by the bar, with a faraway look on his face, clutching the neck of a bottle of Dad’s expensive whiskey so tight it looks like it’s going to burst in his hands.  

Not good. “Klaus, what are you doing?”

“Vanya, sweetheart!” he says, suddenly smiling brightly and beckoning her over. “Fancy seeing you here! What’s a nice girl like you doing in a dump like this?”  

“I live here” Vanya mutters under her breath, walking towards the bar.  

She stands right in front of Klaus and his whiskey, crossing her arms over her chest and hoping to channel whatever energy possesses Mom when she gets them to do what she wants with nothing but the quirk of an eyebrow.  

“Klaus, what are you doing?” she asks.  

“Oh, you see,” Klaus starts, spinning the bottle around, his smile all twitchy. “I was enjoying a late night cucumber sandwich, as one does, when it suddenly occurred to me-”

“I don’t want to hear it” Vanya says, her voice sounding so cold and sure and cutting that the sound of it catches her by surprise and she falters for a moment, wondering where the hell that random burst of confidence came from.

Klaus blinks wildly, his grip on the whiskey bottle going momentarily slack. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said I don’t want to hear it, Klaus. So save the excuses for-” Vanya takes a deep breath, thinks over her words before she speaks again. “I thought we had a deal, that we were going to do this together”

Klaus huffs, his ever present unamused smile returning to his face. “Yeah, well, I’m not the only one who made promises they couldn’t keep, now, am I?”  

Vanya’s confused for a second, because Klaus knows she hasn’t taken a single pill since their sobriety pact, and there aren’t any more promises that she’s made to him. But Klaus is-  

Klaus is shooting the empty space beside her an angry glare. “Huh, really?” he huffs, after a moment, pouting petulantly. “I’d say being dead isn’t a good enough excuse, baby boy”

“Since when do you call ghosts _baby boy_?”  

“Since this one ghost decided they were going to haunt my ass every single second of the day” Klaus replies, without missing a beat and still staring at nothing. “The insufferable bastard”

Now, that sentence just makes no fucking sense to Vanya.  

At all.  

And, if she’s being honest with herself, normally she’d just attribute it to Klaus being Klaus, just like everyone in this house seems to do. But Klaus is alternating between glaring at the ghost beside her and eyeing the whiskey bottle like his life depended on it.  

She doesn’t like the look on his face. And they were trying something there, weren’t they? Vanya’s side of their deal wasn’t just to quit her pills, it was to help her brother through the ups and the downs, and if the down right now is some ghost giving him trouble, then she’ll do her best to help.  

“Why don’t you put the bottle back on the cabinet?” she says, gently. “We can bunk in my room tonight, I’ll even let you do my hair”  

That seems to perk Klaus’ interest. “Can I curl it?”

“Uh, sure?” she offers, wrinkling her nose. “Just tonight, though”

She’ll never understand Klaus and Allison’s undying love for doing each other’s hair. Each other’s and Vanya’s, and anyone’s who’ll let them. She thinks, during that awkward time when Diego decided he was going to grow his hair out, that they got to him too.    

Nobody’s safe from Klaus and Allison.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun” Vanya says, already picturing whatever mess Klaus will make of her hair and call his greatest creation to date. “We can borrow Allison’s things and I’ll do your nails”

Klaus hums distractedly. “Yeah, Allison does have the best purple nail polish”

Vanya sighs a sigh of relief, because that’s got to mean he’s on board and that he’ll stay one more night sober. “Awesome” she mumbles, smiling.

She goes to grab the bottle from Klaus’ hands, and she gets to it, but when she tries to pry it from him, his grip tightens. “Klaus?” she asks, feeling a little dreadful. “You have to let go of it”  

“Don’t want to”  

“Klaus!”

He groans, still holding the bottle. “My time as a sober man has changed me, sister dear, and I’ve come to the outstanding conclusion that not being so high that I can’t remember my own name, much less listen to the ghosties is the absolute worst!” he wipes an invisible tear from his cheek with his free hand. “So I’m done! I quit! Give me back my whiskey, sister dear!”

Klaus tugs at the bottle and Vanya tugs back.  

They stare at each other for a moment, silently daring the other to make a move. Vanya doesn’t think she stands a chance against him, because her brother literally spends half of his days doing physical training and she gets winded going up a flight of stairs.  

She’ll try to stand her ground, though, if it comes to that.

Klaus tugs, _hard_.

She desperately tries to keep her grip on the bottle, but she can’t. Klaus lifts it up over his head and pokes his tongue out, like he’s twelve-years-old or something, and Vanya’s left jumping up and down, trying to no avail to get the stupid whiskey back from him.  

“Klaus!” she yelps, standing on her tiptoes and somehow not even reaching Klaus’ chin. “Don’t be so childish! Put the damn bottle down!”  

Klaus hums, pretending to think it over, knocking a finger over his temple and everything. “Yeah, I don’t think I want to, though, so-” suddenly, he turns to look at that empty spot. “Yeah, well, good to know you’re so opinionated but nobody asked you”

Vanya’s still jumping up and down, cursing whatever god decided to make her just short enough to barely be able to brush her fingers against the bottle.  

It’s not fair, she thinks, it’s not fair that she can’t even do this one thing for Klaus, for her family, because nothing ever goes on her favor. First, she’s born without powers into a family of powers, and she’s left back, alone, to be the last one to hear of their brother’s death, the only one who wasn’t there for him in that mission to even say she tried to protect him.  

And now, now she isn’t even tall enough to pry Klaus’ poison from his hands. There’s nothing she can do! She’s just useless little Number Seven, she’ll always be useless little Number Seven, just taking up space and burdening her siblings with her sheer worthlessness-  

Suddenly, something happens.  

Something happens, and it feels like livewire.  

Vanya has no fucking clue how or what or why, but suddenly, she starts thinking of how much she’d like that bottle to shatter in a thousand pieces, and it does.  

It shatters right on Klaus hands, showering them with alcohol and broken glass, and she has half a mind to yelp incoherently before they’re both thrown back a couple paces by some invisible force. They land a couple feet across from each other, sitting on their asses and staring right at the little pile of glass that used to be Klaus’ bottle.  

“Vanya?”  

“Yeah?”

He gets up slowly, going around the mess on the floor to kneel down next to her and clutch her hand on his own. “What the fuck was that?”

 

*

 

It happens again.  

And again, and again, and again.  

 

*

 

The thing is, they’re little things.  

Things small enough that Vanya can convince herself her mind’s playing tricks on her.  

Someone’s dumb enough to leave a random cloth by the stove, and when Mom goes to turn it on, a flame the size of her head spurts out and while Vanya’s busy trying to find the fire extinguisher and fearing for her life, the kitchen’s light bulbs all burst at once. But sometimes old houses have electrical surges.  

She reads her copy of Ben’s book for the thousand time and while she’s trying to make out the words through her tears, she swears she sees every single thing on her desk hovering a couple inches above the air. But it’s late and she’s tired, and she can’t rule out the idea that she’s seeing things.

She stumbles down the stairs, and during those two painstakingly long seconds before Luther grabs her elbow and stops her from her cracking her skull open on the steps, the house starts shaking dangerously. But who is she, to take credit for an earthquake?

Her siblings go in another mission, the first since Ben, and while she tries desperately to assure herself no one’s fucking going to die on her again, she plays her violin, and she plays, and she plays, and she plays, and she only stops playing when her bedroom’s window shatters and she finds cracks on the walls. But it’s not-

It’s a coincide.  

 

*

 

“Number Seven, I’ll meet you in my office before curfew” Dad says, right before dinner, scoffing at Vanya and her siblings’ confused expressions, because Dad never calls her to his office, never bothers to even acknowledge Vanya’s existence unless it’s to tell her to quit playing her violin in the middle of night.  

“Uh, yeah Dad, I’ll be there” she says, hoping her voice sounds more or less steady. She shares a look with Klaus, then Allison, then Diego, then Luther, silently asking them what they think. They all shrug, or give her blank stares in return, and when Dad gives them the go ahead to start eating, Vanya’s left wondering why the hell Dad wants her in his office.

 

*

 

“Have you been taking your medication?” Dad asks, first and foremost, as soon as Vanya steps foot in his office. The question catches her off ward.  

Because the answer’s no, no she hasn’t been taking her medication for over a week now (and Klaus has been sober for over a week now!). And she should tell Dad, shouldn’t she? That she’s stopped taking her pills for like- moral support or something, that she’s doing a thing, that she thinks maybe if she keeps this up then Klaus won’t die an untimely death.  

She should tell him, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t.  

She’s doing a good thing, after all.

But something in Dad’s voice rubs Vanya the wrong way. Something in his voice screams danger, and Vanya knows firsthand that when Dad sounds so illogically pissed off, the smart thing to do is to play along and hope for the best, follow your gut.  

“Of course, Dad” Vanya lies. “Twice a day, and more when I need it”  

Dad stares at her for a long time.  

Long enough that she starts worrying that somehow, somehow, he knows she’s lying. That he’s going to start yelling and punching, and lock her in her room for a week straight with only one mealtime like he does with her siblings when they misbehave.  

“Are you absolutely positive, Number Seven?”

“Yes, a hundred percent”

Dad grunts in acknowledgement, immediately going to scribble in one of his notebooks with that spaced out look of his and Vanya takes that as her cue to leave. She stops on the door way, though, because something about this entire encounter feels all too surreal. “Dad?”

“What do you want, girl?” Dad snaps, as if he wasn’t the one who called Vanya into his office in the first place. “Don’t you see I’m busy?”

“Sorry, I’m leaving, it’s just-” Vanya starts, biting her bottom lip. “Why did you ask- about my pills?”

Dad looks up, and she feels like he’s staring straight into her soul. She doesn’t avert her eyes though, even if she wants to. “Because you’re my child, Number Seven” Dad says, after a moment. “I care about your wellbeing”  

Vanya wants to scream, because she’s never heard those words coming out of Dad’s mouth, and they sound foreign, wrong, untrue. Dad doesn’t care about her, about any of them.

Why is he asking about her pills?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont quit your pills cold turkey, kids! vanya's just like that


	3. That wasn’t a coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rewrote this like five times

“I’m telling you, it’s the pills” Klaus says for the thousand time, while perched on a table in the study hall, sucking obnoxiously loudly on a cherry red lollipop.  

Vanya stares blankly for a second, wondering where the hell Klaus even got a lollipop because Dad never allows any candy on the house and she hasn’t tasted anything that sugary since probably the year two thousand.  

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind. “I really don’t know what you’re trying to say”

“Just think about it, little Number Seven is sad and doped up, and our lives are super boring, but then-” Klaus lifts his arms up over his head for dramatic effect and the lollipop goes flying. It lands on Diego’s desk, where he’s crunched over a book he’s very obviously not reading, with Klaus’ headphones draped over his ears. He pushes the lollipop off the desk, flipping Klaus off without looking up.  

Klaus doesn’t seem to either realize or care. “Then, dear Vanya, then little Number Seven is no longer sad and doped up, and our lives are suddenly enlightened with daily earthquakes and broken windows! Hooray!”

Vanya blinks.  

Klaus finally lost his mind.  

“I think you’ve finally lost your mind” Vanya says, turning to face her schoolwork. They’re meant to be doing some essay about- something, something about JFK’s assassination and the mysterious circumstances surrounding it.  

She’s pretty sure Dad and Pogo just want them to babble about the way he was shot and how impossible the position of the sniper was. It _was_ a weird shot, though, and if Vanya didn’t know any better she’d think only someone like Five could’ve pulled a shot like that. But she does know better, and Five wasn’t there on 1963.

She grabs a random history book from the shelf and unceremoniously throws it on the table, pushing Klaus’ legs away to the side so she can sit and get some work done.  

Klaus pouts and sighs dramatically, but hops down from the table and sits down next her, on a chair this time. “Does that mean you are rejecting my super fabulous theory that you’ve secretly had powers all along?”

She should’ve gone to the library, like Luther and Allison did. If she was in the library right now, then Klaus wouldn’t be bothering her and she could read her damned history book in peace (but she hasn’t stepped foot in the library since Ben died, and it feels wrong, to go without him).

“Yes, Klaus, that means I'm rejecting your super fabulous theory” Vanya says, huffing. “I don’t have powers, ok? I think I would know it by now if I did”  

“Uh, did you even pay attention to what I said?” Klaus asks, incredulous and offended, as if somehow, she's the one who’s wrong here. “My theory clearly states that you were too high on fake Xanax to notice you had powers, sister dear”  

“And I’m telling you you’re wrong, brother dear” Vanya replies, distractedly skimming over the book’s pages. She thinks she sees a suspiciously familiar flash of blue light over the corner of a picture of the assassination's aftermath, nestled between Jacqueline Kennedy and a random cop.  

Weird.  

“Vanya!” Klaus complains, pulling a second lollipop from literally out of nowhere. “I’m never wrong! That’s just a fact of life!”

Vanya blinks up to him. “Klaus, what do you want me to say? That you’re right, that I have powers and I was just to too stupid to notice them?”

Because-

Klaus is wrong.  

She knows for a fact he’s wrong. Vanya didn’t spend her entire childhood trying uselessly to do something extraordinary, anything at all, really, for Klaus to just straight up say the things he’s saying.  

God, she did the most embarrassing things when she was a kid.

Vanya remembers desperately trying to do what her siblings could do, again and again, but it was painfully obvious from the beginning that she didn’t have super-strength, or couldn’t see ghosts, or didn’t have tentacles, or the ability to spatial jump; and when she tried to do the more subtle things, like throwing Diego’s knifes or rumoring people, it was- it was a complete disaster.  

She’s ordinary.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Klaus mutters, frowning. “I never called you stupid, I’d never call any of my beautiful siblings such an offensive and disrespectful word, sister dear! You wound me!”

“Klaus, just this morning you made up an entire sonnet about how stupid and horrible Diego and Luther are and how much you hate them for fighting over the last pancake” she replies, a little exasperated, because that is so _not_ the part of the sentence Klaus should’ve focused on. “You begged me to compose some music to go with it”

“You’re absolutely right, they’re gross” Klaus says, scrunching up his nose. Then he turns and promptly throws the unopened lollipop he had been toying with at the back of Diego’s neck. “Hey, Diego! Vanya just reminded me you’re dumb as fuck and I hate you”

“What the fuck!” Diego yells out, pushing the headphones out of his head and tuning around to face them. “Why did you do that for?”  

Klaus throws an arm around Vanya’s shoulders. “Does it ever occur to you that us simple mortals might want a second serving of pancakes too? We have feelings, you monster!”

“Oh my god, you’re still upset about that?” Diego replies, rolling his eyes.  

Klaus glares at him. “You and Luther owe me a pancake each, it’s the law”

“I didn’t even get the pancake, remember?” Diego says. “Luther got it”

Klaus gasps, mock offended. Then he turns and glares at thin air. “Oh, shut up, you can’t even eat anymore”

Diego wordlessly picks up the lollipop from the floor and throws it. It lands square on Klaus’ forehead with a loud bang. “Ouch, shit- _fuck_ " Klaus yells out, cupping his head on his hands.

Vanya sighs.  

She’s never going to get that essay done.  

“I’m gonna go finish this in my room” she announces to the room at large, hurrying to pick up her notebook and pens.

“No, no, wait- hold up!” Klaus says, grabbing her elbow to stop her from leaving. There’s a red welt in the middle of his forehead. “Don’t run, we aren’t done talking about your new powers!”

“Your what now?” Diego echoes, side eyeing her.  

Vanya huffs. “Klaus, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t have powers?”  

“Just one more, sister dear” Klaus says, grinning like a maniac. “If you don’t have powers then you don’t mind proving it, right?”

“And how exactly would I prove it?”  

Klaus stands up and points at the hall’s wide window. “If you don’t have powers then you won’t be able to shatter this window!” he says. “The only thing that’ll shatter is my heart!”

“Wait, what?” Diego asks, looking between them and the window.  

Vanya groans, willing Klaus to drop it already. But he’s sober (or sober-ish, at least. Vanya caught him with a joint a couple nights ago), and whenever he’s sober, Klaus starts mulling and obsessing over completely random things for as long as he can.  

Vanya knows for a fact there’s absolutely nothing she can do to steer him away from the crazy idea that somehow, she has powers. “Fine” she finally says, after a moment. “I’ll shatter your heart if that’s what you want”

She walks up to the hall’s window. It’s probably one of the biggest ones in the house, so big, that Dad always hires people to have it cleaned instead of having Mom do it.  

“Ok, now what?” Vanya asks, because she feels very, very dumb, standing uselessly in front of the window. “What am I supposed to do?”

“How should I know?” Klaus replies.  

“You’re the one who wanted me to do this”

Diego gets up from his chair abruptly and goes to stand between them, crossing his arms over his chest in an eerily accurate impression of Mom. “Ok, what the hell is going on?”

“Vanya has powers” Klaus squeaks out, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  

“Oh- ok?” Diego starts, looking a little lost. “And, uh, why do you think she has-”

Klaus cuts him off. “It’s the pills, Diego, keep up”  

“What the hell, Klaus?” Diego asks. Vanya thinks it’s a very sensible question, she often wonders the exact same thing. “How would that even work?”

Klaus waves his hands dismissably right in front of his face. “Vanya, pretty please blow up that window to shut our dear brother up, he’s asking questions I cannot answer and I don’t like it”

Vanya groans.  

Better gets this over with, she thinks.  

She looks up to the window. “God, this is so stupid” Vanya mutters, mostly to herself. But she lifts up her right hand and more or less shoves it at the window, like a character from a comic book or something would do.  

Nothing happens.  

Klaus pouts. “You’re not even trying”  

This entire thing is starting to get on Vanya’s nerves. Suddenly, all she can focus on is Klaus’ heavy breathing, the incessant thumping of Diego’s foot against the wooden floor, the low hum of a random record playing in another floor, probably Dad’s office-  

Why can’t Klaus see that she _is_ trying?  

She’s trying, she’s trying, she’s trying! She’s spent her entire life trying!

Vanya lifts up both of her hands, squaring up her jaw and letting that icy-cold feeling that lies deep inside her wash over her shoulders. Her heart beat is very loud.  

The window shatters.

“Son of a bitch!” Diego screams out, grabbing both Vanya and Klaus and forcing them to the ground, shielding them from the falling pieces of glass. “What the fuck!”

Vanya shuts her eyes closed and wills her heartbeat to slow down. Did she do that? Did she actually break the window with- _with her powers_? She thinks she did.

It could’ve been a coincidence, but-

She has powers.

Fuck.

 

*

 

“Should we even tell Luther?” Diego asks, chewing on the pointy end of a knife. “He’s a snitch”

Vanya’s sitting crossed-legged in front of Ben’s statue, like she did all those nights ago. She watches as Klaus paces around it, probably bored already of waiting for Allison and Luther to show up. “Well, you know what they say,” he drawls out. “Snitches get stitches”

Vanya chuckles. “What? You’re gonna beat him up if he says something?”

“Oh, no, I’m too pretty to get my hands dirty” Klaus replies. “Diego, your new job is to beat Luther up if he decides to be a snitch, I trust you to leave him incapacitated”

Diego raises an unimpressed eyebrow.  

Vanya sighs and looks up at Ben’s statue; it doesn’t even look that much like him. “Are we even sure I have powers?” she asks. “It could’ve been a freaky coincidence”

“Vanya, that wasn’t a coincidence” Diego says, shoving the knife in his pocket.  

Klaus nods. “Yeah, sis, that was... _something._ I mean, I wasn’t a hundred percent before, but that thing in the hall? Powers”

Vanya wants to reply, but before she knows it, Allison and Luther are stumbling out of the house and into the yard, their shoulders pressed together. She can’t keep debating whether she has powers or not when they’re standing right _there_.

Allison openly stares at Ben’s statue when they get there, even tearing up a little, while Luther looks anywhere but directly at it. Vanya doesn’t know how or why, and she might never find out, but she knows Luther sort of blames himself for Ben’s death.  

“So, uh, why did you want us to meet you?” Allison asks.  

Vanya opens her mouth and prepares herself for a long and teary speech retelling all about the night of Ben’s funeral, her sobriety pact with Klaus, the weird coincidences with earthquakes and broken windows, the feeling that bubbles up in the pit of her stomach now that she’s off the pills-  

But Klaus beats her to it.  

“Vanya has powers!”


	4. It's your fault

Allison raises her eyebrows.  

“Powers?” Luther asks, his tone flat and disbelieving. “Vanya has powers?”

Klaus nods enthusiastically and doesn’t offer any further explanation. Which, yeah, ok, Vanya should’ve seen that coming. “I mean, it’s not like-” she starts, standing up to face them. “We aren’t even sure yet, I might be hallucinating”

Diego scoffs. “And I hallucinated the window exploding too, or what?”

“Maybe? I don’t know”  

There’s a small stretch of silence in which Vanya stares at Luther and Allison’s pained and confused expressions with a pained and confused expression of her own. She shouldn’t have let Klaus talk her into telling them.  

“You’re the one who broke the window?” Luther finally asks after a while, suddenly all self-righteous and judgmental. He’s very clearly choosing to focus on the only thing he can keep some semblance of control over. “It’s gonna take ages to repair that window, it’s the biggest one in the house”

“You sure that’s relevant here, Number One?” Diego asks.  

Luther glares.

Diego glares back.

God, Vanya’s family is a mess.

“Hold on, you-” Allison says. “What powers? What can you do?”

“It's, uh, like-” Vanya starts, but then stops.  

What can she do, anyways?  

It’s not something concrete and palpable like the rest of her sibling’s powers, not something she can explain in a sentence like Allison wants her to. So far, all she’s been able to do is burst lightbulbs, shatter windows, and make cracks in the walls.  

Her power is lowering their house’s monetary value.  

She pictures her face in the cover of one of those magazines that always feature her siblings, with the best fucking headline in history: _Vanya Hargreeves, A Real Estate Agent’s Worst Nightmare._

“I’m the worst” Vanya says.  

Allison looks at her with a mix of confusion and sympathy, glancing at their brothers with wide eyes as if asking them for some help. Nobody helps her.  “Uh,” she starts. “No, you’re not?”

Vanya groans.

Klaus jumps to her side and throws an arm around her shoulders. “What our sister dearest means is that she’s got the gift of making things go boom! Isn’t that great?” he says, far too cheerfully for her liking. “Personally, I love it! It’s far better than listening to the world’s most annoying ghost telling me his sob story on repeat”  

He glances at thin air. “I don’t know how, but I’m pretty sure that qualifies as a sob story”  

Allison and Luther share a look, one of those that make everyone slightly uncomfortable. Vanya wishes she could understand whatever conversation they’re silently having, because she’s not sure, she’s not sure, but she’d bet good money that they’re deciding whether to humor them for a while or straight up skip being polite and go tell Dad that little Number Seven finally lost it.

“Boom?” Luther asks, echoing Klaus’ words, after some serious squinting and eyebrow raising. “What do you mean boom?”

 

*

 

They tell them.

Vanya gets to make her long and teary speech retelling all about the night of Ben’s funeral, her sobriety pact with Klaus, the weird coincidences with earthquakes and broken windows, the feeling that bubbles up in the pit of her stomach now that she’s off the pills-

_The study hall’s window._

Klaus only interrupts to call her a real-life Wonder Woman twice, and Vanya only has to tell him that’s really not how Wonder Woman’s powers work twice.  

It’s good.

 

*

 

It’s good until Diego threatens to stab Luther if he decides to be a snitch and runs to Dad. “I swear to god, Spaceboy, if you open your big mouth, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again”

It’s good until Luther scowls and says, “I don’t even have to tell Dad, he’s going to see for himself”

Vanya freezes. “What do you mean?”

But she knows what he means.  

_The cameras._

She completely forgot about the cameras, and judging by the wide eyed looks on Klaus and Diego’s faces, they forgot about them too. It’s just-

It’s just that one day, when they were around fifteen years old, Dad announced over breakfast that the cameras on their bedrooms were going to be disconnected because he didn’t want to see any more of their _“disgusting teenage behaviors”_ and after that, it just seems like Dad doesn’t care that much anymore about his precious cameras anymore.

Vanya’s seen it again and again over the last couple years. Whenever a camera stops working Dad just sighs tiredly and carries on without fixing it, just warns them to behave themselves because he’ll find out about their _misdemeanors_ one way or another.  

And, yeah, yeah. It’s a little hard to keep track of which rooms still have working cameras and which ones don’t, but the study hall, though-

There are cameras in the study hall.

“Shit”

 

*

 

Breaking into the little room where Dad keeps his monitors, and screens, and rows and rows of forgotten videotapes is just as easy as Vanya remembers from their days of sneaking out and replacing incriminating tapes when they were children.  

It’s a two-step, foolproof plan that worked as a charm every time:

  1. Create a diversion.  



A simple thing, really.  

Just get Diego to poke at Luther’s Number One complex and there you have it- a fistfight big enough to get Mom and Pogo to leave whatever they’re doing and go make sure they don’t kill each other. Dad never bothers to leave his office, especially when Diego and Luther are going at it, so they don’t worry about him.

     2. Get the door open.  

Easy-peasy.

“You still haven’t told us where you learned to pick locks” Vanya says, from where she’s standing next to Allison in the hallway, playing lookout. “Dad didn’t teach you how to do that”

Klaus hums low in his throat, poking his tongue out in concentration. “You know how it is, Vanya dear, a guy picks up a few tricks out in the streets”

Vanya huffs. Klaus always makes it seem like his little weekend escapades to god-knows-where somehow equal an entire lifetime living out in the streets, sleeping in dumpsters and learning every trick known to man.  

Also, “I’m pretty sure you knew how to do that since we were like ten years old”

“I did?” Klaus asks, frowning. “Really?”

“Yeah”

He fidgets with the bobby pins he’s using to unlock the door, thinking it over. “That’s just sad, because I think the guy who taught me also sold me cocaine”

“What?” Allison squeaks out.  

Klaus waves a hand over his shoulder. “Worry not, sister, I'm a new and reformed me now”

Vanya sighs.  

She watches as Klaus keeps working on the door handle, and wonders just how long this streak of sobriety is going to last for him. She hopes it’s forever and ever, but she’s not naïve either.  

“You know what I’m thinking?” Klaus asks, and waits absolutely no time at all before carrying on. “Daddy dearest is hitting new kinds of lows every day! The bastard!”  

“What? Because he-” Vanya stumbles over her words. “Because he drugged me?”

God, she needs to slow the fuck down and process that entire thing. Because this isn’t sending her to sleep without dinner, or pushing her around when she misbehaves, this is- _fuck_ , this is something so, so much worse.  

Vanya never had the intention to leave her pills forever when she made that silly sobriety pact with Klaus, she fully expected to spent a few miserable weeks with mood swings and withdrawal symptoms just until her brother gave her the go ahead.  

But now.

If Klaus is right, then the pills weren’t just anti-anxiety, the pills were suppressing her- _her powers_ , and isn’t that thought terrifying? Dad gave her those pills when she was a little kid, Dad gave her those pills to hide her powers from her and-

Why?  

Why would he do that?

She doesn’t know if she wants to find out.

Klaus winces. “Yeah, that too”  

He does some sort of twist with the bobby pins and the door suddenly swings wide open. They all stumble inside wordlessly, shutting the door tightly behind them.  

“But that’s not what I meant,” Klaus keeps saying, as he walks straight towards a shelf with a wooden bin labeled Number Four and starts tucking random tapes under his shirt. “It’s just, the old man has magic pills that keep our powers from working, and didn’t think to share them? What a selfish prick”

Vanya sighs, that’s a conversation for another day.

She gestures Allison to help her look through the tapes, because it seems like the organization system is completely different every time they break into the monitor room.  

So they look through the tapes, popping the ones with no labeling into the VHS player, and lingering a little too long on the ones where Ben’s just there, living his life, eating breakfast with them, reading his books on the library, helping Mom in the kitchen.

Vanya can’t tear her eyes from the little screens, because those recording weren’t taken all that long ago and it’s just not fucking fair that her brother doesn’t get to keep growing up and old with them.  

It’s not fair.

Klaus stops picking at his tapes, and goes to stand between Vanya and Allison, making a show of leaning into one of the monitors and gasping theatrically. “Would you look at that? It’s sweet Benjamin”

Vanya rolls her eyes. “You know his name wasn’t even Benjamin”

“I know, I know” Klaus says, poking his tongue out at thin air. “It was Bennifer”  

Vanya chuckles a little, because Klaus always made up the silliest names for Ben and if she closes her eyes, she can almost hear him bickering, _“I swear to god, Klaus, if you call me Bennifer one more time-”_

Suddenly, Klaus turns to Allison, “You’ve been too quiet, sister dearest” he says, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Cat’s got your tongue?”  

Allison doesn’t reply.

And, yeah, it’s-

Allison’s been too quiet since Vanya spilled her heart out about the powers thing.  

She barely said a single word when Luther asked Vanya for a demonstration, or when Vanya failed miserably because apparently these powers just work whenever the hell they want to, or when Luther told her all solemn and pitying and overly confident that she was deluded and maybe even hallucinating while awkwardly patting her back.  

Allison steps away from Klaus and goes to stand in front of Vanya instead. “Vanya, I think-” she starts, carefully avoiding her eyes.  

And Vanya braces herself, because here comes the _I’m sorry, Seven, you don’t have powers, it’s all in your head-_

Allison takes a shaky breath. “I think I made you forget”

For a second, Vanya doesn’t get it.  

But then Klaus stops dead in his tracks, drops the tapes he was going through. And it’s always weird, to see him standing completely still with no fidgeting or twitching eyes. “Allison, for god’s sake, please tell me you don’t mean what I think you mean”

Allison chokes out a sob, and it’s such a loud, loud noise.  

“What-”  

What the hell are you talking about?

But she knows, doesn’t she?  

“You rumored me” Vanya says, when the realization dawns on her.  

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I don’t- I didn’t, I didn’t-” Allison chokes out, stepping towards her and stretching to touch her.

Vanya takes a step backwards, because _what the hell, what the hell, what the hell-_

It feels like something's breaking in her head, something’s wrong, and bad, and loud, and little snippets of forgotten memories are flashing in front of her eyes. Her powers, the ones that she’s had since she was a kid, Dad’s- _fuck_ , Dad’s training, Dad’s fear, Dad locking her away in a little box and calling Allison to-

_“I heard a rumor you think you’re just ordinary”_

Vanya’s breathing heavily. “You did this to me, you’re the one who made ordinary”

Allison’s hands are clasped over her mouth and she looks absolutely horrified with the situation, with herself, but that’s not enough.  

“You-” Vanya says, and her voice sounds weirdly detached. “You made me-”

Suddenly, she’s very, very angry.

Because, because she wasn’t all that surprised about Dad drugging her, kind of worried and incredibly pissed off? Yes. But not surprised, because that’s just Dad! He’s a bastard! They all know that! Vanya knows that, and doesn’t expect any better from him!

But Allison, tough.

Allison’s the one who actually took her powers away from her.

The one who made Vanya into the outcast, the one who made her into little Number Seven, useless, and fragile, and weak- and why the fuck did her own sister do that to her?  

_Why the fuck-_

“Vanya, I’m so sorry” Allison’s saying. “I’m so sorry”

A thought suddenly occurs to her. “I could’ve been there for Ben”

She could’ve.

Ben’s powers were always a little too chaotic, too messy, too unpredictable, but Vanya’s powers are like that too!

And if Vanya had known about her powers since day one like the rest of her siblings, if she had been an actual member of the umbrella academy, then she would’ve been in that mission. She would’ve been paired with Ben, _and, and, and-_

And maybe, just maybe-  

“It’s your fault!” Vanya shrieks.

The room starts shaking around them, strong enough to make some tapes fall from their shelves, strong enough for the lightbulb to swing wildly in its place. Vanya barely notices.

She can’t think straight anymore, she feels-

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Why would Allison-

The tapes are rattling from their place in the floor, threatening to lift up, up, up, and do some dance on Vanya’s command, but she can’t, she can’t-

“Vanya!”

It’s Klaus, it’s Klaus.

The tapes stop rattling, the walls stop shaking, the lightbulb stops swinging.

His fingers are digging uncomfortably into her shoulder, squeezing tightly enough to bruise. She brushes him off and takes a deep breath.  

“What?” She spits out, forcing herself to make eye contact.

Klaus looks very concerned.  

That’s odd, she thinks, Klaus doesn’t do concerned.

Allison’s backed against a wall, and she looks scared out of her mind. She’s staring at Vanya like she’s straight up going to murder her without a second thought, like she’s-

Like she’s dangerous.  

Maybe she is.

Vanya's dangerous.


	5. I thought you’d never ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why it took me so long to write this, sorry 💔💔

Vanya ends up storming out of the room. 

She runs blindly, ignoring Klaus and Allison’s cries, telling her to stop, to sit down and talk, to _calm down, Vanya, you’re going to kill us!_  

With Allison’s rumor broken, Vanya knows, she just knows in that same vague and unjustifiable way she’s known since forever that the sky is blue and that her family is made up by a bunch of idiots, she just knows that her powers react to her moods. If she’s happy, then they’re calm and nice and pliable, but if she’s mad, then they’re- 

 _(“Number Seven, stop it at once!” Dad yells out._  

 _But the nanny is already dead, and Seven doesn’t understand why a new nanny shows up every time she gets rid of the current one. She’s getting sick, and tired, and Dad never listens, and the nannies are awful, and she wants to go play with Five but Dad keeps calling her names and- )._  

Her powers pick up on the way she’s feeling, and Vanya’s feeling like shit. 

She needs to calm down. 

 

* 

 

Over the next couple days, Vanya avoids her siblings like the plague.  

Or she tries to, at least.  

 

* 

 

Unsurprisingly, Klaus is the one who tries to reach out first.  

“Vanya!” he yells out that same night, all too wide grin and nervous eyes. “Just the person I was looking for!”  

But Vanya’s still feeling completely erratic, and mad, and volatile. She’s been cramped up in her bedroom for hours and hours, and the thought of speaking a single word, of answering whatever questions Klaus might have for her- 

She shuts the door on his face.  

Klaus gasps dramatically from the other side, sputters. “Excuse me, that’s rude as fuck!” 

He waits a couple seconds, maybe expecting Vanya to reply, to open the door.   

Because that’s what she always does, isn’t it? She lets herself be pushed around, she acts like she’s less, like whatever she wants is unimportant, and usually, if someone wants to go into her bedroom, she lets them. She lets them, she lets them even if she doesn’t want any company! 

Why does she do that? 

So Vanya does something she’s never done before. “Klaus, go away” 

“What? But-” Klaus starts, then stops. She hears him as he stills completely, occasionally humming, a sign that he’s listening to one of his ghosts. “Fine, fine, but you don’t have to be such a bitch about it” he mutters, not meant for her. 

Vanya hears a thump on her bedroom’s door, and then Klaus sighing. “Hey, sis, uh,” he says, “Just, we’re here for you, ok? So, like, don’t freak out on us again, it wasn’t fun”  

Understatement of the year.  

Vanya’s pretty sure if she had let herself go just a tiny bit more, then she would’ve brought the house down. But she stays quiet, slumps against the door. She pictures Klaus doing the same from the other side.  

Because, yeah, her powers are hellish, and Dad drugged her, and Allison rumored her, and her life could’ve been very, very different if her family had been better to her, but-  

But Klaus is there for her, if she needs him. 

 

 

* 

 

With Diego, it’s more of an accident. 

Late at night, Vanya wakes up with a gasp.  

When she opens her eyes, everything in her bedroom is- _floating_. Hovering over the air a couple inches, her desk, her violin, her laundry basket, her bedside table, even the bed frame. She freaks out for all of two seconds, wondering how the hell that could happen, but then she remembers.  

Powers.  

Right. Vanya has powers.  

She can do things like making her furniture float.  

At least she thinks she can, anyways. She needs to learn her powers all over again, learn her limitations and how to not make things float while she sleeps, because if she can make things float while she sleeps then she can cause an earthquake and kill everyone in the house, can’t she?  

She takes a deep breath, and tries with all of her might to let her furniture into the floor slowly, _quietly_. No luck. Everything falls down violently, making an awful and incredibly loud noise.  

She winces, hoping that by some miracle, no one heard.  

Of course, Vanya’s life is never so simple. 

Diego busts through her door a couple seconds later, looking around wildly with and clutching a butterfly knife. “Freeze!” he yells out, like he’s in one of those cop shows that borderline on soap operas he always watches but pretends he doesn’t.  

“It’s just me, Diego” Vanya says, tiredly.  

Diego slumps his shoulders, squinting suspiciously. “That sounded like an elephant stomping” 

It’s me, Vanya thinks, I’m the elephant. 

“Yeah, it’s- it was me” she says, hoping Diego will get what she means and won’t make her say it out loud. 

“Oh” Diego starts, putting the knife down. “Oh, with your-?” 

“Yeah” 

Diego stands there uselessly, for a while. Vanya watches as he opens his mouth and closes it a couple times, as he bends down to pick up her violin and awkwardly tries to put it back on its base, before failing and just propping it against the wall.  

Klaus and Allison must have told him what happened, him and Luther.  

“Well, th- that’s-” Diego stutters. It’s funny, because Diego’s mostly grown out of his stutter, and Vanya keeps forgetting he ever had it to begin with. “That’s really cool Vanya” 

No, no it’s not.  

“Cool?” Vanya echoes incredulously.  

Diego nods. “Yeah, I don’t get why Dad decided to bench you, your power’s amazing. It’d be super useful to have you around on missions” 

He looks at the floor instead of Vanya the whole time he says it, a hand absentmindedly flipping his knife around and he probably thinks is like, a super threatening motion, or something. Still, Vanya thinks that’s the longest sentence Diego’s spoken to her in a while, and the- 

The nicest. 

She wants to be suspicious, to ask for whatever hidden reason he might have for not treating Vanya like she’s painted on the background, she wants to. But isn’t it easier to just take a compliment without asking questions? 

“Yeah?” Vanya asks. 

Diego gives her a small smile. “Yeah” 

 

* 

 

Then, the very next day, it’s Allison.  

Vanya makes sure she’s the last one of her siblings to go downstairs for breakfast, because she doesn’t know what she’d do if they all gang up on her and start harassing her with questions.  

So she goes, and she stands in front of her chair, just like she does every morning, and she tries not to linger too long on the thought that Five and Ben’s seats will forever remain empty, just like she does every morning.   

Dad comes along, tells them to start eating, and so they do. 

The eat in silence, like always, except this once, Vanya can just feel her siblings’ eyes boring onto her, can feel their general air on uneasiness. Klaus kicks her foot under the table more times than she can count, making silly faces at her whenever she turns.  

Overall, it’s not the worst breakfast in the world.  

Until they’re done eating and Dad clears his throat. “Children, I’m afraid this morning’s physical training will have to be rescheduled” he says, using that special tone he reserves for prying neighbors, the press, or child services.  

Vanya blinks. 

She thinks she can count one handed the times when Dad has straight up cancelled physical training, and it’s always been when he has some important politician over or something. If can’t make it himself, he always sends Pogo, or Mom, or even Vanya to keep track of her siblings’ progress. Not that they do much, anyways, when he’s away but- 

Klaus frowns. “Uh, what gives, pops?” 

“It’s none of your concern, Number Four” Dad replies. “And please abstain from calling me _pops_ ” 

Fine, fine, whatever. So, they won’t have physical training and Dad won’t say why, it’s cool, it’s cool, nothing to worry about. Vanya has enough on her plate to worry about Dad’s odd behavior.  

Except, except, “Number Seven, you will be spending the day with me”  

No, she thinks, no I will not.  

“What do you need me for?” she asks, dreading the answer. 

Dad doesn’t reply.  

But he doesn’t really have to.  

Vanya knows, _she knows, she knows, she knows-_  

Dad’s going to pump her full of pills, and he’s going to lock her away in that little box, and he’s going to take Vanya’s powers from her, and he’s going to- 

The walls start shaking. 

Nowhere near strongly as the monitor room, but enough for everyone to notice and stare at the ceiling uneasily, fearing that it’ll topple over and collapse.  

Vanya settles herself, takes a deep breath. No need to tear the house down.  

The walls stop shaking.  

Dad gives her a hard, cold stare. “Number Seven, please accompany me” 

Nobody moves for a couple seconds, not Vanya, not Dad, not her siblings. They all stand there, next to the table, staring at each other and fearing to make the first move. 

Dad’s never been a patient man. “Number Seven, I said-” 

“Hey Dad!” Allison blurts out, drowning out Dad’s words.  “I want to train today. I want to- _uh_ , I want to try rumoring in other languages”  

And it’s such an amazing thing to do, to talk over him.  

Dad hates it, hates it, hates it, hates it, and the fact that Allison’s doing it for her, to try and distract him from his task of ruining Vanya’s life all over again, even knowing what he could do- 

Last time someone interrupted him so blatantly it had been Klaus, and the size of the bruise on his cheek served as a reminder to keep their mouths shut. And Allison’s- 

Vanya holds her breath, waiting for Dad to lash out. 

Dad turns to Allison, murder on his eyes. “Number Three, I’ve made myself very clear in the past about-” 

Suddenly, something wonderful happens.  

Vanya sees it before it happens, in the way Allison squares up her shoulders and lifts up her chin, in the way Dad trails off and straight up growls, “Don’t you dare, you insolent girl!” 

But Allison grins slowly, deliberately. “I heard a rumor you forgot your plans for the day” 

And just like that, Dad’s eyes cloud over and he’s left blinking sluggishly, looking around heedlessly. “What are you children doing here?” he says, after a moment. “You’re supposed to be in training” 

“Sorry, Dad, we’ll get going” Allison replies, all sweet and innocent expression.  

Vanya gapes openly, wondering exactly when Allison went from that scared little girl who got nervous at the mere suggestion of rumoring her father for fear of ending up at the receiving end of his fury, to- 

To this. 

To rumoring Dad for her. For Vanya. 

Vanya watches her brothers’ expressions, all various degrees of shocked and gleeful, of insanely surprised. Luther looks like he’s two seconds from telling on Allison, clenching and unclenching his fists, but for some miracle, he doesn’t.  

Allison squeezes Vanya’s hand when she passes. 

Vanya squeezes back.  

 

* 

 

Saying Luther reaches out to her is a bit of an overstatement, but still.  

Vanya walks out of her bedroom one morning, and very nearly trips over a small coffee table that’s just- _there,_ standing next to her door. There’s a little machine sitting on top of it.  

It’s got a pen attached to a weight hanging from a tall spring and it’s drawing mindless patterns on a rotating roll of paper. Vanya doesn’t like it. 

“What the hell is that?” Klaus asks, when he walks out of his own room. 

Vanya stares at the machine, and experimentally gives it a little shove. The machine moves when she touches it, but the weight stays in place and draws a bunch of long and angry lines on the paper.  

Vanya groans. “It’s a seismograph”  

“Sorry, I don’t speak Vietnamese” 

“No, it’s,” Vanya says, turning to face Klaus. Somehow, he still wearing pajamas, even when they were meant to be downstairs for breakfast like two minutes ago. “It’s to test for earthquakes and explosions, that sort of thing”  

She got a fuzzy memory from forever ago, of Five messing around with a seismograph, trying to test whether his powers created _disturbances_ or whatever when he jumped from place to place.  

Vanya helped him. 

She can’t remember anymore how that little experiment turned out.  

Klaus groans theatrically. “Daddy dearest is an asshole”  

Vanya nods, because the seismograph is there for her, it’s there so Dad can have irrefutable evidence that she remembers her powers, that she’s using them.  

Yeah, Vanya thinks, yeah, he’s an asshole. 

Klaus wanders off but she stays, staring at the little machine, wondering just how much time she has left before Dad finally catches on and Allison isn’t there to rumor him away, how much time she has left before she has to go back to being little Number Seven, useless and afraid.  

Luther shows up from out of nowhere, running out of his bedroom and heading downstairs. Vanya leans against the wall, expecting him to walk by her and nonchalantly ignore her, like he always does. But instead, he stops.  

He stops dead in his tracks next to her, next to the seismograph.  

“What-” he starts, and Vanya watches as the realization of exactly _what_ the machine is, what it does, dawns over him.  “Oh, it’s a-” 

Vanya crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah” 

Luther’s face does something funny then, the sort pinched expression he always gets whenever his common sense is telling him something wildly different from whatever little voice tells him to kiss Dad’s shoes and worship the ground he walks on.  

“So you have powers, huh?” Luther asks. 

And that’s- 

Vanya spent so, so, so much time trying to convince him before, but this- the fact that Dad wants her, the fact he put a goddamned seismograph next to her bedroom’s door, the fact that Allison had to rumor him to get him out of Vanya’s hair, it’s enough, it’s finally enough.  

Luther believes her.  

“Yeah, I have powers” 

Luther nods, squeezes her shoulder and walks downstairs for breakfast. 

 

 

* 

 

Vanya thinks, if Five were here, he’d design an incredibly detailed training regime for her, he’d tell Dad to shove his mystery pills up his ass, he’d tell Vanya he always knew she was special, powerful, extraordinary.  

And Vanya thinks, if Ben were here, he’d sit next to her, ask her if she wants to talk about it, and even if she said no, then he’d still be happy to just sit next to her, comforting her, letting her know she’s not alone.  

But she’ll never know for sure. 

 

* 

 

She misses her brothers.  

 

* 

 

Vanya’s standing in her bedroom, her violin propped against her cheek. She’s been going over a silly piece from Lord of the Rings all over and over again for the past couple of weeks, working over a long set of quavers that’s been giving her trouble.  

The thing is, they sneaked out to watch the movie when it came out, and Ben made her promise she’d learn it and play it for him. And yeah, yeah, Ben’s dead, but Vanya decided she’s damned well going to play the stupid song for her brother, even if she has to sit in front of his expressionless statute.  

So she plays, starting from the top and praying to god or whoever’s listening that she won’t fuck up again. She plays, letting the soft and melancholic notes wash over her, transport her to that night, in the theater, throwing popcorn at each other and laughing at the stupidest jokes.  

She plays.  

Her bedroom door bursts open. “Vanya!”  

“Jesus- _fuck!_ ” she screams out, startled.  

The room shakes a little, at time with Vanya’s scream. She watches Klaus, Diego, and Allison’s sheepish expressions, eyeing the seismograph outside guiltily. Whatever.  

Whatever. She’s fine. 

She puts the violin down on her bed. “What do you guys want?”  

“I thought you’d never ask, sister dear!” Klaus says, vaguely. He walks deeper into her bedroom, pocking at the music sheets she had propped open. “We have a proposition for you” 

Vanya squints. “What do you mean?”  

“We just thought you’d want to, uh, to come with us?” Allison says, and Vanya notices for the first time that she’s clutching something on her arms, a bundle of clothes. “You can say no, though, no pressure”  

She walks towards Vanya’s bed and puts the bundle down.  

It’s a uniform. 

It’s one of Allison’s mission uniforms, with the black and white leather, the bullet proof undershirt, and the domino mask. And it’s laying there, on Vanya’s bed, for _her_.  

She whips her head up, searching her siblings’ faces for some sign that it’s all just a practical joke, that she’s misunderstanding. “So?” Klaus asks, grinning. “You coming or what?” 

“Dad?” she asks, because she does not want to find out what he’d do.  

Diego scoffs. “You know the old man doesn’t tag along anymore if he doesn’t have to” 

Vanya nods, it’s true. “And Luther?” 

“I talked to him” Allison says, which could either mean she actually talked to him or that she rumored him, but she says it with a whole lot of certainty. Luther won’t be a problem. 

Vanya stills hesitates, for the mere reason that she doesn’t go on missions.  

She just doesn’t.  

She’s Number Seven, she’s Number Seven and her role in the Umbrella Academy is to stay at home and cry about it, to watch her siblings’ success from the sidelines. Vanya’s half convinced the world would straight up end in some sort of apocalyptic explosion if she went on a mission.  

She’s just not made for that sort of thing.  

“Oh, c’mon, Vanya” Diego complains. “There’s a robbery on the news and I bet they’re going to call us any minute now. Just put on the uniform” 

But then again, Vanya never thought she’d have powers.  

She can prove herself wrong about this, too.  

“I’m coming” 


	6. Holy shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys omg i dont know what it is about this fic but it takes me forever to write a chapter im so sorry

 

This was a bad idea.  

This was the _worst_ idea.  

“You guys go ahead,” Vanya says, carefully trying to avoid her siblings’ judging eyes. “I think I’ll just wait in the car” 

Diego gives her an incredulous glare. It looks weird, from under his domino mask. “Vanya, we did not just sneak you in here for you to wait in the car”  

Vanya whimpers. Diego might have a point, but still-  

Bad idea.  

Jesus, Vanya shouldn’t have said yes. Why did she think saying yes would be a good idea, anyways? Allison’s uniform looked so very tempting, but she could have just asked to try it on and be done with that particular childhood dream of hers. Really.  “I’m not going inside” 

“Yes, you are” Diego growls out, crossing his arms over his chest.  

They’re standing in front of the city bank’s back door, the one meant for employees. Luther kicked it open already, and Vanya can just faintly make out the noise of some asshole yelling at someone to put money in a bag.  

Why did she think this was a good idea? 

Luther’s staring at her. Well-  

They’re all staring at her, but Luther’s eyes feel the heaviest. Maybe it’s because he’s only one of her siblings’ who’d actually consider rating her out to Dad. He kept his mouth shut while Vanya sneaked out of the house and into the non-descript black car that drove them here, he kept his mouth shut when Klaus bribed the driver with a couple of twenties he got from god-knows-where to forget Vanya was ever there.  

But who the hell knows what goes through Luther’s head.  

“Are you going to tell Dad I was here?” 

Luther blinks, clearly surprised.  

Maybe it’s her boldness that surprises him. Vanya feels weird since she stopped taking her pills, like voicing out her opinions isn’t such a hassle. “If you’re going to tell Dad then I can just wait outside” 

Vanya watches as Allison gives Luther an incredibly threatening look, just daring him to say something. “What?” Luther mouths at her, frowning.  

Allison glares harder. 

“You know what?” Luther says, after a moment. He faces them all. “You can do whatever you want, I don’t care. Just don’t get Vanya killed”  

And then he promptly walks into the building.  

Nice.  

Nice. 

Cool.  

Do they even have a plan? A strategy? Or they do they just walk in and do whatever? Vanya’s beginning to think they just walk in and do whatever, hope for the best.  

God, no wonder Ben died.  

“Now what?” Vanya asks.  

There’s an awkward pause, and then Klaus giggles at something the air said. Vanya takes a second to appreciate whatever ghost is nice enough to make her brother laugh. At least someone’s having fun.  

“Vanya, you can just-” Allison starts, goes to reach towards her.  

Vanya flinches back.  

She can’t help it. 

She can’t help it because Allison put on her serious voice, her mission voice, her _“I heard a rumor”_ voice, and Vanya’s a hundred percent sure she’s never going to be able to hear that voice directed at her again without picturing that day all those years ago.  

 _“I heard a rumor you think you’re just ordinary”_  

Allison looks at her, shocked, hurt.  

Vanya lowers her eyes.  

She wants to forgive her, she wants to.  

Allison takes a deliberate step back, and turns to Diego instead, a tight smile on her lips. “Diego, can you give her the walkthrough?” 

Diego watches them, his eyes skipping from Vanya to Allison, Allison to Vanya. Klaus does it to.  

“Sure” Diego says, simply.  

Allison nods, and walks into the bank. She doesn’t look back.  

“Well, that was fun” Klaus says, with a lazy smile on his lips. He puts an arm around Vanya’s shoulders and drags her inside, Diego hot on their heels. “I really liked the part when Luther looked like his head was going to explode”  

Diego huffs. “He always looks like that” 

Vanya walks stiffly, just barely keeping up with Klaus’ long strides. She looks around while she can, before they leave the safety of the employee-only areas and reach the lobby, where most of the commotion seems to be happening.  

She takes in the bank’s high ceilings and scarce decoration, the tall windows and plastic plants. It looks familiar, in a way she can’t quite place her finger on. “What’s the plan?”  

Diego looks like a deer caught in the headlights. For all that he complains about being Number Two, he clearly never enjoys being the one responsible for anything resembling what a leader should do. “Uh, well-” He starts, squinting. Vanya doesn’t know why they asked her to come if they didn’t even have something for her to do.  

Diego falters. Vanya waits patiently. 

Klaus slows down just in front of the lobby, where Allison and Luther are already kicking some random goons’ ass. There’s- a lot of people in there, some poking at the bank’s vault, some trying to slow Luther and Allison down, some holding guns to people held hostage.  

“Hostages!” Diego exclaims.  

Yeah, yeah. Hostages, Diego, there are hostages.  

Vanya raises an unimpressed eyebrow.  

“Keep an eye on the hostages, make sure no one dies” Diego explains. “Easy” 

Vanya eyes the gunmen, the ones holding those giant monstrosities with bullets on their hands. There’s one, two, three, four, five of them surrounding the many, many hostages, all of them cramped up in a corner of the room. “That doesn’t sound easy” 

Klaus barks out a manic laugh while Diego rolls his eyes.  

They’re awful. 

But she gets it, in a way, because they’ve been doing this for years and years, thousands of times since they were children. Keeping an eye on the hostages is what they consider an easy job.  

“If you freak out just stick with Klaus, ok?” Diego tells her, already pulling out a couple knives from their holsters. “He never does anything, anyways” 

She can stick with Klaus.  

“Uh, excuse you” Klaus sneers, glaring at Diego and pulling his arms from Vanya’s shoulders to cross them over his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent lookout”  

God, Vanya keeps forgetting they don’t really let Klaus do anything during missions anymore, not since he got into those heavy drugs of his. He’s the lookout, just the lookout.  

And yeah, yeah, Vanya bets he _is_ an excellent lookout, just like he says he is, but she seriously starts to doubt it when a random thug walks by, just behind Klaus’ back, sneaking into Luther and landing some solid punches before Luther manages to knock him out.  

Klaus keeps looking straight ahead, oblivious.  

He truly is an excellent lookout. 

“Sure you are, buddy” Diego says, patting his back. He shots Vanya one last tight smile, and takes off straight into danger, to back Luther and Allison up.  

Vanya stares at them, wondering how the hell she ended up here. 

“Well, it’s just you and me, sestra” 

“Yeah, just you and me” 

 

* 

 

She really, really doesn’t know how the hell she ended up here. 

Vanya watches detachedly as Allison runs around. “Luther! Watch out!” Allison manages to yell out, right before a man grabs her and clamps a hand over her mouth.  

But there are already three men surrounding Luther, a fourth pressing a gun to his forehead. Should there be so many people in a bank robbery? Vanya feels like there shouldn’t be so many people in a bank robbery. 

“Move, pretty boy” The thug with the gun spats, shoving Luther towards the vault. “I’m gonna need you to open this baby up for me”  

Luther growls a low sound on his throat, shoving some of the men’s hands off of him. For a second, Vanya fears he’s going to do something incredibly stupid, like test whether or not his powers also bulletproof him, but then he takes a step forward and grabs the vault’s handle, tearing it off the door effortlessly.  

Cool, now the criminals have the money. 

“Shit” Klaus mutters beside her, staring at an empty space with wide eyes. “Shit, shit, shit- no, I know, don’t be an ass” 

They’re hiding behind someone’s desk, huddled close together and away from danger because apparently neither Klaus nor Vanya handle stress very well. “We have to do something” 

“Like what? Like end up like sleeping beauty over there?” Klaus huffs out, lazily pointing a finger towards Diego. He’s-  

He might have a point.  

He might have a point because Vanya watched as some guy straight up smashed a potted plant against the back of Diego’s head and knocked him unconscious. She doesn’t want to end up like that. Or worse.  

But still. “C’mon, Klaus, we can’t just stay here”  

Although maybe they should stay there, let the thugs have the money and save themselves. It’s really not worth it to end up dead because of a stupid mission. Vanya knows. Ben should have known.  

“Don’t worry, sis” Klaus tells her, waving his hands dismissably. “They’ve got it handled, see?”  

Luther still has a gun to his forehead, and two guys are putting masking tape over Allison’s mouth. Diego’s very passed out. They’ve not got it handled.  

“Are they even cops in this city?”  

Vanya feels like maybe there should be cops here. Who the hell thought a bunch of teenagers running around were the best option to handle this type of situations? Why did Vanya ever want to come along for missions? This is-  

She watches as a random hostage, a girl wearing thighs and high heels and a nametag, spies an open window and decides to make a run for it. Now, Vanya never actually participated in any of her siblings’ hostage situation training, but she was there when Dad gave them the rundown, she was there alright, and she remembers this:  

Under any, any circumstances they’re to let a hostage take initiative and play hero. Run. Fight. It always ends with bullets. Vanya doesn’t want this to end with bullets.  

Vanya doesn’t even think. She stands up and away from her safe little hiding spot, ignoring Klaus’ cries to stay put. “No, no! Stop!” she screams, desperately trying to focus the thugs’ attention on herself, but the girl’s already halfway towards the window, already has a giant guy, bulky, at least six feet tall running after her.  

The man fires a single bullet.  

The bullet goes flying, and Vanya only has enough time to remember that feeling, the feeling she got when she wanted Klaus’ whiskey bottle to shatter, the feeling she got when she broke the study hall’s window, the feeling she got when she found out Allison’s the one who hid her powers from her.  

She remembers that feeling, and she channels it. 

Vanya raises up her right hand and pushes towards the bullet, the loud sound of the fire echoing around her skull. She pushes towards the bullet with all of her might and watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as it changes direction and lodges itself against a distant and empty wall.  

Vanya grins incredulously.  

She just did that. She just used her powers to save a hostage’s life.  

It’s a good feeling.  

It doesn’t last.  

The thug stares at the lodged bullet with a confused expression, following its trajectory until his eyes fall on Vanya. He seems to take in her appearance, the leather uniform and domino mask. “You’re one of those freaks”  

Yes, yes, she’s one of those freaks.  

Vanya vacillates, unsure of what to do. “Klaus?”  

Klaus gets on his feet slowly, going to stand beside her. He regards the thug with a nervous smile. “Why don’t we all take a second to breathe in, relax? Y’know?” 

Nobody relaxes.  

The thug takes two, three, four long strides, and before she knows it, he’s standing right in front of them, waving his stupid gun on their faces. Klaus tenses, puts an arm in front of her. It’s a nice sentiment, but Vanya’s pretty sure Klaus’ lanky arm doesn’t stand a chance against a bullet.  

“Seriously, man” Klaus hisses. “You need to chill”  

The man raises the gun and slaps it against Klaus’ face, hitting him hard enough to send him toppling to the ground. “Shut the fuck up!” He spats. Vanya gasps, tries to reach for him, but the thug presses the gun to her forehead and she thinks better of it.  

Luther and Allison are standing there, staring at the scene with wide eyes just a couple feet away from her, immobilized by their own personal gun-wielding bunch of criminals. Diego’s still lying on the floor, unconscious. He’s not even breathing, but Vanya knows he rarely actually breathes when he’s asleep- a perk of his power, she guesses.  

She’s alone in this.  

Vanya thinks, logically, that this should be the absolute best moment to use her powers and toss the thug with the gun across the room and away from her. She decides to do it.  

She lifts up a tentative hand, slowly, mindful of the gun, and _pushes_.  

Nothing happens.  

“What the hell are you doing, freak?”  

Good fucking question. 

Vanya tries again, and again, only managing to just barely shift the gun’s position until it’s no longer in her forehead. Fuck. 

Why did she think this was a good idea? 

The thug growls out a low, angry sound. To Vanya’s horror, he decides against waiting around for the rest of the thugs to empty the vault while threatening her, like his friends are doing with her siblings, and instead, he tosses the gun aside and curls a hand around Vanya’s neck. “Stop doing that!” 

Why the _fuck_ did she think this was a good idea? 

She claws at the man’s neck desperately, starting to feel that ungodly pressure on her neck, that ungodly pressure that prevents her from breathing properly, from thinking straight. The thug lifts her from her feet, holding her by the neck a couple inches off the ground.  

“Hey, hey, no!” Klaus is on his feet on a second, punching the man’s back and shoulders in a complicated pattern that makes him lose balance, free some of that pressure from Vanya’s neck for a second. But another man comes in, and another, and another, and they hold Klaus until he can’t move either.  “No, no!” 

The thug tightens his grip on her neck. 

Fuck. 

Is this how Vanya dies? Her only comfort is picturing the goddamned face Dad would make after learning she managed to discover her powers and sneak into a mission. It’d be priceless. 

She blinks, trying and failing to make the spots around her vision to disappear. _She can’t breathe._  

Klaus is fighting against the people holding him, kicking and pushing and shoving and punching, screaming his lungs out. He really should stop doing that before someone gets tired of him and puts a bullet between his eyes. Vanya watches him, detachedly, and just faintly makes out a-  

She does a double take. 

There’s- 

There’s a shape, standing beside him. Human shaped, almost as tall as him, blurry, shimmering a low blue, and flickering in and out of existence at time with Klaus’ screams.  

Weird.  

Really, really weird.  

Vanya thinks, there might be- _something_ , something protruding from the shape’s body, the shape’s middle, long and lanky, poking out from its stomach. Tentacles?  

God, Vanya’s hallucinating from the lack of oxygen.  

She really shouldn’t let herself go to her happy place, to a place where Ben’s alive and he comes to save her with his mighty tentacles like the world’s freakiest knight in shining armor. It’s not fair to her, to him, to let herself get choked to death while thinking happy thoughts.  

Vanya shuts her eyes closed, and reaches for her powers.  

There, there they are.  

She pushes briskly, fiercely, telling herself she’s not going to be the next dead Hargreeves. She’s not going to join Ben and Five just yet. The thug goes flying across the room, crashing against a wall, and she falls to her knees, choking, coughing, struggling to breath once again.  

As soon as she does it, every single one of the thugs decide to aim their gun towards her. Great. Fun.  

The shimmering mirage of Ben’s gone just as fast as it came. 

“This one’s feisty” Someone says. 

Vanya’ll give them feisty. 

She reaches for her powers once again, growling, hurling, letting herself just go fucking nuts with all that repressed energy-  

A couple thugs fire their guns. Vanya lifts up a hand and stops them, just stops those goddamned bullets dead in their tracks, stops them, stops them and sends them flying in the opposite direction, until they fling themselves on the respective person who shot them.  

Vanya watches the men drop like flies, bleeding, screaming, dead. 

She feels good.  

The remaining men run towards her; guns raised. Someone shoves Klaus’ shoulder as they pass by and he lets himself fall, drags himself backwards and away from Vanya.  

Good, Vanya thinks, I need space for this.  

Luther and Allison are finally free. Luther helps Allison get the masking tape off from her mouth, helps Klaus to his feet, drags Diego closer to them.  

Vanya turns to the thugs and lets herself go.  

She grabs them, with her power, she grabs them one by one and tosses them around the room like ragdolls. They’re powerless and weak, useless, and Vanya rebels on the feeling of having the upper hand for the very first time on her life.  

She feels good.  

She’s strong. 

She’s not useless little Number Seven. 

She’s Vanya Hargreeves, and she’s strong. Powerful. 

Vanya only allows herself to stop tossing the men around when they’re nothing but corpses, bloodied and bruised. She stops, letting the bodies fall with heedless thuds. She only realizes she’s breathing heavily when the sound of her wheezing is the only thing disturbing the silence.  

Klaus takes a step towards her. “Holy shit!” 

Vanya blinks, taking in Luther and Allison’s (and the bunch of hostages’) horrified expressions. They’re staring at her like she’s gone crazy, like they’re afraid of her. She doesn’t know if she hates the feeling.  

“Can I wait in the car now?”


	7. Number Seven!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha i'm like super late again and this chapter kind of sucks ooops

“Vanya, what the hell was that?” Luther cries. He’s looking around wildly, jumping from dead body to dead body, checking if any of them has a pulse. Vanya seriously doubts any of them is alive after she tossed them around against the walls, tough. 

She shrugs. “It was- my powers, I guess”  

“Your- _your powers_?”  

Luther’s voice is very high. It usually isn’t that high. 

Vanya really doesn’t get why he’s so mad about her killing the bank robbers. It’s not like there isn’t any blood on Luther’s hands- they’ve all killed people. In fact, the Umbrella Academy has received so, so many criticisms from the press, from the police department, from- _everyone_ , that Dad had to sit them down a couple months ago and order them to stop murdering everything that moves.  

Vanya stops, considers it.  

Come to think of it, maybe that’s what Luther’s so mad about. He’s afraid of Dad’s reaction. 

“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to kill them” Vanya tells him, even though she very did mean to. She flops down unceremoniously on the floor, right next to Klaus and a still very passed out Diego. They really should get him to Mom. 

“Yes, Vanya, you didn’t mean to- that's the problem!” Luther spits out, shoving a finger again and again in her direction. “You know what? Allison told me I shouldn’t worry, that you got it handled, and I thought I’d give you a chance, but now I know I shouldn’t have!”  

Vanya falters, curls in on herself. “I just-” 

Luther waves a hand, interrupts her. “No, no- I don’t wanna hear it. You’re dangerous, you’re a hazard! I mean, I knew Dad must’ve had a reason to do what he did, but this is just incredible! You shouldn’t even be allowed outside, you-” 

 _“Luther!”_  

And there’s Allison, walking back into the bank. She had left a couple minutes ago, to rumor the hostages into forgetting she was here, to talk to the press. Vanya could kiss her.  

Luther crosses his arms over his chest, gives Allison the dirtiest glare Vanya’s ever seen this particular brother direct to her sister. “She shouldn't be here, and you know it”   

That’s not true, is it?  

Vanya understands she’s dangerous, she understands she’s a hazard, just like Luther says she is. She’s a dangerous hazard who shouldn’t be allowed outside, but-  

But she’s still her sibling’s sister! She’s still one of them! 

“What I know is that you need to shut up now, Luther” Allison glowers. She goes to stand in front of him, mirroring his position and crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to talk to Vanya like that”  

Luther scoffs. “I’ll talk to her however I want to” 

(Klaus puts a hand over his chest in mock-offence. “Uh, rude!”  

Everyone ignores him). 

Allison makes a face, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Vanya’s allowed to be here, just as much as any of us, and just because her powers scare you, it doesn’t mean you can talk to her like that, Luther. Don’t be such a baby”  

“She’s killing people!” Luther retorts, shooting Vanya a sharp look. She curls in on herself further, sort of hoping she had stayed home. She should’ve stayed home.  

Allison and Luther stare at each other, glaring, having a silent conversation. Vanya sighs, looking away-  

Klaus sighs too, after a moment. He gives Vanya a casual pat on the back before getting on his feet and facing Luther. “Relax, big guy” he says, all fake nonchalance and wide smiles. “I’ve seen you toss people out of many, many windows, bro, it’s kind of the exact same thing, isn’t?” 

Luther scoffs. “I’ve never killed if it wasn’t in self-defense, and never- never so many people” 

Vanya wants to argue it _was_ in self-defense. The big guy had a hand to her neck and the rest didn’t look like they were going to calmly take the money and walk away, let them free without a scratch. But the truth is she doesn’t know.  

She doesn’t know! Maybe they would’ve, maybe Luther has a point, maybe she shouldn’t have done what she did, shouldn’t have killed, because- 

What kind of monster murders so many people so cold heartedly, with no hesitation whatsoever? What kind of monster- 

“Ben did” Allison says, quietly, so quietly Vanya almost misses it.  

Vanya hisses a sharp breath. The silence stretches.  

Ben. Ben did. 

Ben, him or the Horror, whatever- Ben would kill mercilessly, anyone and everyone who got in his way. Vanya understands that that was his main job for the academy, unleashing the Horror and standing by while it destroyed and maimed and mangled, killing and killing and killing and killing.  

Ben wasn’t a monster.  

Ben was good, the best out of any of them. 

And maybe- just maybe, Vanya isn’t a monster either. She can be good, too. She can learn and listen and try, and she can be like Ben. Ben was good. 

The silence stretches.  

Luther looks down at the floor, ashamed maybe- while Allison stares on, her chin raised high. It’s so weird, to see her sister standing up for her. The weirdest.  

But she figures, in a way, Allison’s standing up for Ben too, not just her.  

Allison bites her lip, after a while. “Hey, did any of you see, uh- this thing?” She does a weird gesture with her hands, pointing over to the spot where Vanya was being choked a couple minutes ago. “Like a blue shape- or a person, a shadow thing?”  

Vanya blinks.  

She thought she was seeing things because of the lack of oxygen. Hallucinating.  

“You saw it too?” Luther gushes, surprised. “I thought it was like a trick of the light, but- I don’t know” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t know what it was” 

If they saw it too, then Vanya wasn’t hallucinating. And isn’t that a frightening thought? Because that blue shape wasn’t just a shape, that blue shape looked suspiciously like- 

“What? No, they aren’t talking about you- they didn’t see you” Klaus sneers, looking over to a patch of air with a disgruntled expression. Then, after a beat, “Don’t be stupid, you know I can’t do that”  

He looks absolutely bewildered and dumbfounded by whatever whoever he’s talking to suggested he can do, taken back, unnerved. Scoffing and throwing the empty spot disbelieving looks.  

“Klaus?” Vanya asks, carefully. “Who are you talking to?” 

Klaus looks over to her, waves a hand dismissively. “Just a ghosty, sis”  

A ghosty. A ghost.  

A ghost that brought up people other than Klaus being able to see him right after they were talking about a mysterious blue shape. A ghost that suggested Klaus can do- _something,_ something that somehow relates to people without Klaus’ powers being able to see him. A ghost that- 

A ghost that looked suspiciously like Ben. 

That blue shape-  

“Klaus!” Vanya cries.  

 _She needs to know, she needs to know, she needs to know-_  

“Yes, sister mine?”  

Vanya opens her mouth, falters. She really doesn’t know how to bring it up without somehow hurting Klaus, Klaus’ feelings, because he hasn’t said anything about being able to see Ben, not a word, not a single word. That must mean something, right? That must mean he- he can’t.  

Klaus would tell her, if he could.  

“Just-” Vanya starts, stops.  

Would he?  

He would, right?  

He would.  

But Allison and Luther saw that shape, too. And Allison brought it up after talking about Ben, she must have seen the resemblance, must have seen those bright blue tentacles! Vanya doesn’t understand how or why, but she knows, deep in her heart,  that was Ben. That was her brother, her sweetest, kindest, brother. Her dead brother.  

“Klaus, I need you to tell me-” 

Diego wakes up.  

Diego wakes up with a start, sitting up abruptly, gasping, sputtering, and wasting no time to throw one of his knives blindly, with no particular direction, at full speed. Luther only manages to catch it by the handle without getting stabbed.  

 _“What-?”_ Diego sputters _,_ half shouting, looking around. There’s a lot of dead bodies around them, must be quite the sight. “What the hell happened?”  

Vanya winces. “I, uh- it was an accident?” 

“You-” Diego starts, looks towards the bodies incredulously and then back at her again. “You did this?” 

She nods.  

Diego frowns, raises an eyebrow.  

He looks like he wants to make some cutting comment, but then he moves to stand up and clutches his head, groaning, blinking rapidly. Everyone but her rushes to his side, holding his shoulders and making sure he doesn’t pass out on them again.  

Vanya watches, as they lift him up, as they guide him towards the car, help him buckle up.  

“Hey, Van” Klaus says, right before they hop into the car with him. “What did you want to ask me?” 

“I just wanted to know if-” Vanya starts, considers it, stops. What if she’s wrong?  

What if it was a trick of the light, and she only manages to upset Klaus, to make him think of about their long-gone brother, make him think about his own power’s failures.  

She can’t do that.  

She can’t hurt Klaus like that.  

“If-” 

Besides, Klaus would tell her.  

He would. 

“If you-” Vanya falters, chews her lip. “If you wanted to curl my hair tonight?” 

Klaus brightens, perks up.  

Nothing like allowing him to mess up her hair to distract him.  

 

 

* 

 

 

By the time they arrive home Vanya feels about ready to pass out.  

The driver drops her off a block away from the house, and she sneaks in through the fire escape after waiting a whole ten minutes, just for good measure.  

Vanya carefully climbs through her bedroom’s window, mindful of the large pieces of glass she hasn’t gotten around to fixing after shattering it. Her bedroom’s empty, just as she left it- with Luther’s record player still propped up on her desk, humming a recording of a violin practice session she managed to get on tape once, again and again and again.  

It’s a Paganini, a song that gave her trouble for weeks, left her banging her head against the walls and wishing that if she had a superpower, if she had a superpower, _please god, let it be musical proficiency, let me be a violin genius, let me be good at something-_  

Turns out she does have a superpower.  

It isn’t musical proficiency.  

The only reason why Vanya managed to learn how to play that song was because she fought it and won, became musically proficient all on her own, became a violin genius all on her own, became good at something all on her own. And that’s enough, really. Superpower be damned.  

She sort of wishes she had realized that sooner, because the Umbrella Academy _sucks_.  

Vanya sighs, throws herself face down into her bed. She stays there for a while, wondering how the hell she feels so goddamned tired after spending maybe an hour or two running around- it's not like she did much, just hide in a corner and get choked. But then again- 

Powers.  

Ben and Five, they both always said they got a little too tired after forcing their powers too much, said it was better if they used them sparsely, carefully. Maybe Vanya should learn from them.  

“Fuck you, powers” Vanya mumbles half-heartedly.  

Her powers do not answer.  

Great.  

Vanya thinks she can hear some muffled half-sentences, pieces of a conversation floating up to her bedroom from somewhere downstairs. It’s Dad’s voice, unsurprisingly yelling, some _“-stubborn children, what part of no fatalities is so hard to-”_ and then some _“-if the mayor calls again, I’m going to-”_  

And then Luther’s voice, tight and shameful.  

 _“Yes, sir”_  

 _“We understand, sir”_  

 _“Won’t happen again, sir”_  

Great, great, great, great, great-  

Vanya’s the one who lost it and murdered everybody but it’s her siblings the ones who end up yelled at, punished, taking the blame for her. Which, she’d usually be all for, but-  

This feels different.  

It’s one thing to break a vase while playing hide and seek and blame it on Diego’s target practice, and it’s a so, so very widely different thing to murder some twenty people and blame it on- on whom, anyway?  

Luther’s the only one who could’ve done something like that, and so Luther will be the only Dad will think to blame. And Luther already thinks Vanya’s a dangerous, Vanya’s a hazard, Vanya shouldn’t be allowed outside!  

What is he going to think of her now?  

For exactly how long will he keep her secret?  

Vanya’s days are counted now.  

 _They are, they are, they are-_  

The conversation from downstairs abruptly cuts off, and Vanya wonders why for a second too long, she wonders why before realizing the house is shaking wildly and she’s the one doing it, she’s the one proving again and again she can’t be trusted.  

She reaches for that feeling on her chest and cuts her powers off, leaving the house to stand still once more. It’s truly a miracle it hasn’t collapsed yet.  

There’s silence, and then, “You’re dismissed”  

Vanya listens to the sound of her siblings’ trotting footsteps, approaching their bedrooms’ hallway as fast as they can without being called out for running. It’s their footsteps, but then it’s also Dad’s languid walking joining their own.  

“Number Four, a word”  

Vanya can almost see Klaus begrudgingly slowing down and stopping altogether, almost see his annoyed and questioning expression. “Yeah, papa?” 

Silence.  

Luther, Allison, and Diego’s doors shutting.  

More silence. 

Vanya holds her breath.  

She wonders if Dad finally noticed Klaus is clean, and Vanya is clean, and they’re both liars. Has he noticed Vanya remembers? Has he noticed now she knows she’s strong and powerful like her siblings?  

Has he? 

Maybe he’s trying to get to her through Klaus because he has noticed too, that now Four and Seven actually get along, actually spend time with each other. 

Vanya holds her breath.  

“It’s been a month now” Dad announces, and Vanya thinks yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s been more or less a month since I know I have powers.  

Klaus is quiet for the longest time, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad” 

“I believe you know, Number Four”  

“I really don’t” 

Vanya sits up on her bed slowly, not daring to make a sound.  

This is it, isn’t?  

She wonders what Dad’ll do now, because she isn’t four years old anymore and she won’t fall for the same antianxiety pills trick twice.  

She won’t.  

She won’t let him drug her like that again.  

Vanya hears quiet pacing, a couple steps to the right, a couple steps to the left- she pictures Dad walking along the corridor, staring down at Klaus, small and afraid.  

He tsk-tsks, his tell-tale he’s going to open his mouth and tell you what an absolute moron you are.  

Vanya braces herself.  

This is it.  

This is it. 

But it isn’t.  

“It’s been a month since Number Six’s passing”  

Oh.  

 _Oh._  

“What?” Klaus sputters. “No, no it’s- it’s not-” 

Vanya jumps out of bed, gasps a sharp noise.  

It’s not been a month, right?  

It’s not.  

She would’ve remembered her own brother’s death one-month anniversary. She would’ve!  

Vanya still leaves peanut butter and marshmallows sandwiches by door on Five’s disappearance anniversaries! Not because she still thinks he’s magically going to show up through the power of that goddamned diabetic’s wet dream of a sandwich!  She leaves it because it’s a nice thing to do! A way to remember her brother by, to make sure he’s never forgotten!  

And she-  

She wanted to play that song Ben had asked her to play for his one-month.  

Vanya sighs, runs a hand through her hair. She’s really the worst sister ever. Although, she isn’t the only one who forgot- they’re all the worst siblings ever. 

Ben deserved a better family.  

“Yes, Number Four, it’s been a month” Dad repeats. It sounds vaguely like a threat. “And I believe you told me it took a month for a ghost to fully manifest”  

Is that- 

Shit.  

Vanya runs over to her bedroom’s door, twists it open just an inch and hurries to get an eye against the opening, watching the scene. Dad has his back to her, but Klaus is-  

He’s sharing a look with a very empty patch of air.  

“Uh, I don’t think I recall”  

Dad huffs. “Have you or have you not been able to establish contact with your brother, Number Four? I don’t have all day”  

Klaus goes back to sharing a look with that very empty patch of air.  

“No, nope. Poor Benny must have passed over to the other side, y’know?” Klaus says, and Vanya recognizes the odd pitch in his voice, the twist of his eyebrow, and she knows, she just _knows_ he’s lying through his teeth.  

He’s lying. 

 _Klaus is lying._  

 _Klaus is lying, Klaus is lying, Klaus is lying!_  

That means Ben is- 

Ben is a ghost, and he’s dead and away and gone, except he’s here! He’s been here since god-knows-when else, following Klaus around and watching them all make dumb mistakes, watching Vanya make dumb mistakes! He’s here! 

 _(She wonders then, why Klaus never said anything._  

 _Does he not think Vanya is capable of keeping a secret?_  

 _Does he not trust her?_  

 

 _She wonders too, about that shape in the bank._  

 _Shimmering blue, tentacles flailing, her own knight in shining armor.)_  

But Vanya doesn’t have the time to ponder or wonder or think up the thousand messages she’s going to pass over to Ben through Klaus.  

Dad stares down at Klaus, opts a predatory posture. “Perhaps you’ve gotten sloppy, Number Four. Perhaps we need to restart your personal training” 

Klaus freezes, shrinks in on himself.   

“That- that’s not necessary” he babbles, giggling a nervous sound. “I’m sure if Ben hasn’t showed up by now then he’s not-”  

“Quiet, boy”  

Klaus quiets.  

Vanya thinks Dad hasn’t dragged Klaus away for personal training in- years now, not since Klaus got started in the heavier drugs. 

She wonders- 

Klaus has never, not even once, told anyone what used to happen during his personal training. He’d just disappear for a couple hours, for a couple days, and came back unhinged, a shell of himself- sometimes staying frighteningly quiet for weeks and weeks, barely eating, barely speaking, and then sometimes he’d come back with sharp and cutting words, a need to push anyone and everyone away by whatever means necessary.  

He’d always come back different. Like he lost a part of himself.  

Vanya never liked that, because none of her siblings ever come back looking like that, not Luther, not Diego, not Allison, (not Five, not Ben). They come back tired, and worn, and pissed off but never-  

“No, no, no, no-” Klaus is saying, a desperate edge to his voice.  

Vanya turns to look just in time to catch Dad’s hand latching onto Klaus’ bicep harshly, tugging with far more force than necessary and nearly making Klaus lose his balance and fall facedown, dragging him away through the hallway.  

Klaus starts whimpering, _“No, no, please, I’ll- I’ll do anything”_  

Dad stops walking, doesn’t let go of Klaus’ arm.  

“Will you summon Number Six?”  

Vanya can make out Klaus’ heavy breathing, his tightly shut eyes, his shaking hands. She doesn’t like how this is looking, doesn’t like how this is looking but she doesn’t know what to do.  

“No, no, I won’t” Klaus breathes, and it feels like an admission, like maybe both him and Dad know he can see Ben and just won’t say it out loud.  

Dad frowns, tightens his grip on Klaus’ arms. “Very well” 

And just like that he starts dragging Klaus away all over again while he cries and screams and kicks and Vanya can’t help but wonder where the hell are Diego, and Luther, and Allison, because there’s no way they can’t hear this, no way they can’t hear how desperate and afraid Klaus sounds. 

Whatever Dad’s dragging Klaus to- it isn’t personal training, it can’t be.  

It’s torture. 

It’s plain torture. 

Vanya debates whether or not she should intervene, try and stop Dad from hurting Klaus any further. Would she even help? Or would she just cause a scene and earn Klaus more and more time in whatever hell he’s getting locked in? Is she supposed to- 

Vanya slips.  

She’s leaning as close as she can towards the hallway, standing on her tiptoes and barely paying any attention to the fact that she’s leaning her weight into her very mobile door. The door swings open a couple inches.  

Vanya slips.  

She manages to save herself from completely falling over, but she slips. Her shoes squeak against the floorboards and she gasps a shallow sound, holding onto the wall with a loud slap.  

Dad stops dead in his tracks, turns around to face the sound, and-  

 _And-_  

 _And, and-_  

And there’s Vanya, spying on him while wearing a mission uniform, purple bruises around her neck and a domino mask tall and proud against her eyes.  

“Number Seven!” Dad huffs out, angry. So very angry.  

Vanya doesn’t even think.  

She slams the door shut.  

With her powers.  


	8. You can't do that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh guys in this chapter the implied/referenced child abuse turns into straight up child abuse so like... if that's a sensitive topic be careful my dudes, love y'all, be safe <3 <3

_Shit._  

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-_  

“Number Seven!” Dad yells out, and Vanya can hear him trotting over and launching himself at the door. Vanya jumps backwards on instinct, helplessly trying to get herself as far away as possible from him. 

He pushes at the door and Vanya pushes back with her powers, again and again and again, not daring to stop pushing. And- _fuck, fuck, fuck_ , now what? Now what? 

“Number Seven! Open the door!”  

Vanya whimpers.  

She does not open the door.  

She thinks she can hear Klaus’ voice through Dad’s yelling, whining something in a high-pitched tone, running from side to side. “Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad!” Klaus babbles. “Dad, Pops, Sir- O Captain! My Captain!”  

Dad huffs a low noise, leaves the door alone for a whole entire two seconds.  

But Vanya knows Dad’s long since learned exactly how to tune out Klaus’ best efforts to drive someone crazy, just like the rest of them. It’s useless, it’s useless, it’s useless, and after those whole entire two seconds pass by, Dad goes back to pushing at the door, leaning his weight with a particularly heavy shove.  

Vanya holds it, but just barely. She realizes she’s actually-  

Tired. 

So very tired.  

She completely drained herself out during the mission, completely. There’s just no fight left in her for the time being, nothing at all-  

“Number Seven!” 

He shoves at the door.  

Vanya holds it, just barely.  

Klaus giggles something high and nervous, and she can picture him twitching, his eyes jumping from place to place with his mind going a mile per hour. “C’mon, Pops, I thought you and I had a hot date? Just you, me, the ghosties, and a whole bunch of emotional trau-”  

“Shut up, Number Four!” Dad snaps. Klaus shuts up.  

He shoves at the door.  

Vanya holds it, just barely.  

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, really- because her intention is to focus on the door and the door only, but she thinks she can hear what’s left of her window rattling, her lightbulb swinging, she thinks she can feel the ground beneath her feet shaking ever so slightly.  

She’s tired.  

There’s blood coming out of her nose.  

Dad goes to shove back at the door, and Vanya isn’t sure she’ll be able to hold it. She isn’t sure, she isn’t sure, and what’s going to happen, once Dad manages to get his hands on her? What’s going to happen? 

Dad goes to shove back at the door, and- 

“Uh, what’s going on?” 

Is that- 

Klaus breaths out, relieved. “Allison, thank fuck” 

Vanya lets herself relax too, lets the grip on her powers slip a little further away from her. Allison’s here, she’s here, she’s here, and her powers are actually useful!  

There are a couple odd seconds of silence, and Vanya pictures everyone staring at each other, deciding what to do, how to act, who’s side to take. And then, “It’s none of your concern, Number Three”  

Dad says it, plain and simple. And then, then- 

Then he walks away.  

Just like that.  

Vanya blinks, so very confused. But then she remembers a couple days ago when Allison rumored the hell out of Dad. There are cameras on the dining hall. There’s Pogo, and there’s Mom, and maybe even Luther. There’s Dad’s notes, and there’s that feeling on the back of your neck that Allison’s rumors always leave behind. He knows he was rumored.  

It makes sense.  

Maybe Dad’s afraid Allison’s going to rumor him away again. Vanya hears him turning around and away from the door, walking towards the staircase with an awful lot of confidence. Far too much confidence, really- he’s got to have a contingency plan or something.  

“Pops?” Klaus calls, confused. “Where are you going?” 

Dad doesn’t answer.  

He walks away, with a purpose. 

Great. 

 _Great, great, great, great-_  

 _Fuck._  

She’s tired.  

Vanya lets herself plop down on the floor, her legs sprawled out in front of her. She’s starting to feel a little dizzy, a little light-headed, unable to form a coherent thought and shape it into an action.  

Now what? 

“Hey, Van” Klaus is saying, somewhere from the hallway. “V, are you ok?”  

She listens to the sound of his erratic footsteps, jogging over to her door. But the door’s locked, the door’s locked and Vanya doesn’t have it in her to stand up, to get on her feet, walk over, and open the door. It’d just be too much pressure on her body, way too difficult to manage. 

So she tries for her powers.  

Lifts up a hand ever so slowly and raises it over her head. She thinks about twisting the doorknob, but that seems a little too difficult as well, seems like it’d require some actual effort on her part. Vanya decides to do the only logical thing-  

She rips the door off its hinges.  

Sends it flying over and toppling downwards.  

Klaus is there, standing with a hand half-raised towards the empty space where her door used to be. “Oh- oh, ok then, yeah” he says, lowering his hand. “I guess that works, you tiny little wrecking ball” 

That’s her.  

The tiniest wrecking ball that has ever existed.  

“Shit, Vanya. Are you ok?” Allison asks, somewhat worried, and suddenly she’s crowding Vanya’s space, jumping over to grab the box of tissues Vanya always keeps on her nightstand and pressing a whole bunch of them to her face. She’s confused for a second, wondering what the hell Allison thinks she’s doing, but then she sees the tissues turning red and, _oh-_  

Oh. 

Right. 

Right.  

She’s got a nosebleed.  

Vanya’s tired.  

Maybe she shouldn’t have torn the door off- it just tired her further and truly wasn’t all that necessary. Now she doesn’t have a door. She likes having a door.  

Allison snaps her fingers in front of her face. “Are you ok?”  

Vanya blinks slowly, nods.  

“Yeah, I think so. I’m just a little- I'm- I'm a little-” 

Allison’s staring at her, eyes open wide. Then Klaus is there too, and it’s not only one but two concerned siblings that look about ready to kick some ass on her behalf or something. Something. It’s nice. It’s very nice. She likes feeling cared for, but-  

She shouldn’t worry them.  

“I’m just tired” Vanya manages to croak out.  

Tired, and worried, and scared out of her mind. Unwilling to move out of her safe little spot on her bedroom’s floor, surrounded by her family, because-  

What now? 

What’s Dad planning?  

“Tired?” Allison echoes, frowning. “Vanya, you look like shit” 

Like shit.  

Thank you, Allison, thank you so very much.  

Vanya groans, looks up to her. “I’m just tired, ok? There’s no grand reason” 

Allison keeps frowning, pressing the back of her hand to Vanya’s forehead just like Mom does when she suspects someone might be sick. Except Mom’s hands have sensors and thermometers and Allison’s hands are just boring, human hands with no possible way of telling if Vanya has a fever. The gesture only serves to be kind of annoying.  

“ _Allison-_ ” Vanya whines, trying to bat her away.  

But she’s way too tired to put up a fight, only waving her hands weakly.  

It must look so stupid, Vanya sprawled out on the floor, batting uselessly at her very concerned sister. Klaus muffles a laugh, still a little nervous. “Hey, c’mon, sis,” he sniggers, somehow actually managing to push her hands away from Vanya’s forehead. “She just wore herself out back at the bank, no biggie. Right Vanya?”  

Vanya nods. “Yeah, must be that” 

She just wore herself out back at the bank.  

No biggie.  

The thing is-  

She went on a mission for the very time in her life, she used her powers nonstop in said mission, and she wore herself out. No biggie. Vanya should be on and about in no time, if her siblings’ past reactions to tiring themselves out are any indication. No biggie.  

But. 

Dad.  

Vanya groans, buries her face in her hands. “God, I fucked up”  

She really, truly, honestly fucked up. Big time. Yes biggie.  

There’s no way Dad’s going to leave her alone after this, there’s just no way! He’s gonna force feed her those fake Xanax pills all over again, he’s gonna force feed her all those messed up ideas about her self-worth all over again, he’s going to- 

“What? No!” Klaus yelps. Vanya blinks. What is he talking about? “Everyone wears themselves out sometimes! That’s not fucking up!”  

Oh.  

That.  

“That’s really not what I-”  

But Klaus doesn’t let her finish. “I mean, you remember how Five used to get, right? Once, when he was training nonstop to prove to Daddy he was the best kid or whatever, the little freak jumped into my room at like four am, puked in my bed, and straight up jumped out without a word. The bastard”   

“What?” Vanya chokes out.  

Klaus nods, bobbing his head up and down.  

“Yeah, and once, I told Luther to carry me after a long mission because I was tired as fuck and he has super strength, but turns out the big lug gets tired too! He dropped me!” 

Allison makes a face, “I don’t think that was an accident”  

Klaus turns to look at her, scandalized. So very betrayed.  

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to” Vanya tells him, while patting his arm awkwardly. 

But Allison’s still making that face, and Vanya doesn’t sound all that convincing. Klaus sighs, a long, heavy sound. “What a bitch” he mutters, pouting. “Remind me to drop _him_ sometime” 

“Uh,” Vanya starts. “Sure, will do” 

But she doesn’t really think there will ever be a scenario where Klaus will have the opportunity to carry and then drop Luther. He can dream, though. They all can.  

Vanya closes her eyes, leans back until her neck is hitting the side of her bed frame and she can lean her weight. She doesn’t know what to do.  

She doesn’t know what to do.  

She should’ve never gone on that mission, should’ve never decided to just lounge around her bedroom wearing the stupid uniform, should’ve never spied on Klaus and Dad’s conversation, should’ve never- every single one of her actions has led her to nothing but a crisis after another and all for what, exactly?  

The mission sucked, the uniform is kind of itchy, all her pretty Umbrella Academy daydreams are done for, and Klaus and Dad’s conversation-  

Klaus and Dad’s conversation. 

Vanya considers it, opens her eyes back up. 

Klaus and Dad’s conversation. 

That’s something. 

“Hey, Klaus,” Vanya says. Klaus voice echoes around her head, lying, lying, lying- _Poor_ _Benny must have passed over to the other side, y’know?_ “Before, when you and Dad were talking...?”  

Klaus closes off almost immediately, gets that rigid posture and empty, cruel expression Vanya hasn’t seen in a while. Allison’s eyes jump from his to hers and back again, eyebrows raised.  

“What about it?” 

“Just-” 

Klaus looks so distant, his voice so cold. She understands why he lied to Dad, but-  

Why did he lie to her? 

Is she not trust worthy enough? Has she not let Klaus know he’s her absolute favorite person to be around these days, let him know she’d keep any secret he’d tell her?  

Maybe she hasn’t. Maybe Vanya enjoys Klaus’ company but it’s not the other way around. Maybe every single little voice on the back of her head is right. Maybe Vanya’s annoying, and irritating, and untrustworthy, a burden, a liability, the worst person to ever-  

The walls start shaking. Slowly, weakly.  

Vanya fights a wave of nausea and tells herself to stop, tells her powers to stop.  

She’s tired.  

Maybe Klaus has some other reason to hide their dead brother from her. A reason that doesn’t involve every single one of Vanya’s insecurities being shoved in her face.  

She needs to hear it. “Klaus, since how long have you been seeing Ben?”  

Klaus chokes out a sound between a gasp and huff, incredulous. Vanya can just see the _I don’t know what you’re talking abouts_ coming, being muttered, repeated over and over, yelled.  

But she knows she’s right.  

She knows because Klaus lifts up his head and turns to look at an empty spot next to her desk, a beautiful, beautiful patch of air that Vanya’s maybe a little too tempted to try and hug or kiss or punch.  

It’s Ben. 

Ben’s standing next to her desk.  

She knows.  

She pictures him, not with the bloodied mission uniform he died in, not with the stupid school boy shorts, not with Dad’s assortment of pre-approved civvies. No, she pictures him wearing one of his dumb all black dramatic outfits, his heavy boots and familiar gelled down hair.  

Vanya pictures her brother, her brother that she’s gone a whole month without.  

She forgot his one-month anniversary.  

“Hi, Ben” Vanya whispers, waving shyly.  

Klaus glares at her, glares at Ben, crosses his arms over his chest. But that’s alright, that’s alright because Ben’s there and Vanya’s there and they’re all there.  

She pictures him waving back, smiling one of his soft smiles. Maybe he’s saying hi back, or maybe he’s begging Klaus to actually tell her he’s there, or maybe he’s begging Klaus not to. Vanya doesn’t care.  

Ben’s there. 

It’s Ben. 

Nothing else matters.  

Before she knows it there are tears pooling around her eyes, threatening to spill over. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that her brother's right there, standing a couple feet away from her, and she can’t see him, can’t hear him, can’t interact with him. He’s just as gone as he was before Vanya knew he was there.  

“Wait, hold up” Allison blurts, grabbing Klaus’ shoulder urgently. “Ben’s here? You can see him?”  

 Klaus shakes her hand off his shoulder, crosses his arms back up and scowls. “Ben’s dead, Allison. He’s gone” 

“I know but, your power-”  

“He’s gone” 

Vanya can’t understand why Klaus won’t admit it, won’t tell them he can see their brother. It’d be so simple- so damned simple, to just open his mouth and say _yes, yes, I can see him._  

But then again. 

Ben’s gone.  

He’ll forever be gone for anyone that isn’t Klaus. Maybe Klaus wants to save them the heartbreak of knowing Ben’s there, forever out of reach. A ghost. Because Klaus always speaks of the ghosts with so much hatred and pity and disgust- 

Maybe he wants to save them the heartbreak of knowing Ben’s existence has been reduced to an empty shell of a thing, wandering around the halls, unable to speak or touch or feel, unable to interact with anyone but him. Maybe Klaus is doing the right thing here.  

But it’s too late for Vanya.  

She knows. 

Ben’s there.  

She wipes a tear from her cheek. “We know he’s gone, Klaus. You don’t have to say it like that”  

Klaus deflates, opens his mouth and then closes it back again. Vanya gives him a look, a look she sort of hopes translates into something like _I know, I know you’re lying, I won’t push you now, but I know you’re lying._  

 _We’re going to talk about this._  

Klaus lowers his eyes, nods.  

And that’s that. 

Except Allison keeps looking between them urgently, maybe even hopeful, like she knows there’s something they’re not telling, something they don’t want to let her on. And that something’s about dear dead Ben, so Vanya doubts she’ll drop it any time soon.  

She opens her mouth, starts to speak, and then- 

Footsteps.  

Loud, angry footsteps. 

Dad’s footsteps, trotting up the stairwell towards their bedroom’s hallway. 

Vanya freezes. “Shit” 

She looks down towards her broken door, lying uselessly on the floor. Did she really have to do that? God, Vanya’s a mess.  

She’s mess.  

A chaotic, unpredictable mess.  

“Oh, that’s not good” Klaus mutters nervously, edging a little closer to her. Allison does it too, even grabs one of Vanya’s hands in her own.  

It’s like they’re saying _we’re here_.  

Her brother, and her sister, saying they’ll be here for whatever happens next, saying they won’t ever leave her alone to face Dad’s wrath or the universe’s wrath or whoever’s wrath ever happens to be bestowed upon Vanya. She even pictures Ben standing up a little straighter, stepping between her and the doorframe.  

She’s not alone.  

She’s never been alone. 

The footsteps grow louder, Dad gets closer, and closer, and closer, and- 

Klaus gasps. “What the fuck?” 

Dad’s holding a-  

Gun? 

Is that a gun? 

That can’t be a gun. They all know Dad kind of hates every single one of them, kind of hates Vanya, but he surely can’t hate her all that much. Not enough to bring a goddamned-  

He fires.  

In between gasps and half shouts, something goes flying and lodges itself right in Vanya’s chest. She stumbles backwards until she’s lying completely flat on the ground, her head almost stuck under her bed frame. But she's not dead, she’s not dead, so- 

She opens her eyes and sees. There’s a- _thing,_ a thing sticking out of her chest. Long and narrow and glass, a little vial emptying some mysterious liquid into her body, burning hot. Huh.  

Not a gun, then.  

That’s nice.  

Klaus yanks the vial out in a panicked frenzy of stiff movements as soon as he notices it. Vanya winces, because that thing’s attached to a needle and that needle was attached to her chest and Klaus wasn’t the most careful. But that’s alright, that’s alright, that’s alright- 

Klaus holds the vial up and they both stare up at it.  

It’s empty already.  

Whatever juice Dad cooked up is on Vanya’s bloodstream. 

Not good.  

So not good. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Allison hisses, staring between Dad’s dart gun and the vial Klaus is holding. “You can’t do that! You have no right to do that!”  

The liquid’s spreading, fast. Vanya can feel it. 

She tries to stand up but finds that she can’t. It’s weird, it’s weird, it’s awful, she feels funny- numb but not really, lax but not really, frozen but not really, a weird, painfully artificial feeling spreading ever so slowly from her chest to her limbs, one by one.  

Not good. 

“Vanya? Hey-” Klaus starts, his head two inches away from hers. He’s shaking her shoulders harshly. Vanya wants to open her mouth and speak, but she can’t. “Vanya? Are you ok?”  

“I’m- I-” Vanya wants to open her mouth and speak, but she can’t. She only manages to croak out some unintelligible noises that sort of remind her of the worst of Diego’s stutter. Where’s Diego, anyway? 

Klaus eyes harden, and he turns to face Dad. “What the fuck did you do to her, asshole?”  

Vanya can’t lift her head up enough to actually look at him, but she hears his voice, loud and clear and frighteningly cold, “It’s none of your concern, Number Four” 

Vanya doesn’t like his tone. It’s too calm, too flat, too emotionless. Vanya was right. Dad has a contingency plan. And it makes sense, right? Because he has to deal with seven ( _-six, five_ ) superpowered teenagers and it could happen, it always could happen that they’d get tired of his bullshit and seven superpowered teenagers are a hell of a lot stronger than one flimsily old man.  

There’s a contingency plan. 

Not good. 

Vanya fights to keep her eyes open, the numbness from whatever was in the dart doing its damnedest to pull her under. Allison’s big hair is swimming in front of her eyes, and Vanya watches as she stands up and clenches her jaw. There’s an all too familiar look on her face.  

Allison opens her mouth, and they all know what’s coming.  

 _“I heard a rumor-”_  

Dad knows what’s coming.  

He fires.  

It’s a fraction of a second, a split moment frozen in time where Vanya wants to scream and shout and maybe shove that dart in Dad’s face for a change. He can’t do that! He can’t do that! Allison’s the only hope, here! 

Vanya fights the numbness, and nausea, lifts up her right hand with whatever strength she has left and _pushes._ Find her powers deep inside and pushes, pushes against the little dart flying on Allison’s direction, threatening to take away her autonomy and leave her at Dad’s mercy.  

Vanya won’t have that. 

She pushes.  

She pushes maybe a little too hard.  

The dart’s direction changes at Vanya’s will, thrown carelessly to the side. But it’s not just the dart. Yeah, yeah, ok, Vanya’s powers are a little unpredictable- she pushes, and a wave of fizzingly whatever-it-is, a wave of tumultuous air, a wave of her powers crashes violently against one of her bedroom’s walls. 

Cool, cool.  

Now there’s a giant hole between hers and Klaus’ rooms.  

Excellent.  

Allison’s gasping, flinching away from the pieces of debris. “Vanya, what the-!” 

But the dart’s away, away from Allison’s reach where it’ll be harmless, where it won’t hurt her, and Klaus is muttering something about grand opportunities to redecorate and the noise was loud enough to alert Diego and Luther, and Vanya feels herself being swept away.  

Everything goes black. 

 

 

* 

 

 

She comes to slowly.  

It’s an odd feeling, like she’s waking up in parts and not all at once. Her first moments of consciousness are spent wondering why is everything so quiet. The house is never truly quiet. She can always hear her siblings’ bickering, a record being played, Mom’s heels clicking away somewhere in the house. 

But not now.  

Everything's quiet.  

She opens her eyes slowly, almost fearfully.  

Everything’s dark, too.  

Too dark. But she can tell it’s a small space, so small and dark and empty that there’s barely any room left at all for the cot she’s lying in.  

Vanya doesn’t like small spaces.  

She goes to straighten up but finds that she can’t. Her wrists are tied to the cot’s frame with small, padded handcuffs, like the kind they use for mental institutes. “Oh, no, no, no-” Vanya mutters, tugging uselessly at them.  

She’s not strong enough, so she reaches for her powers and-  

Nothing. 

Nothing.  

There’s an IV on her arm, dripping something into her veins.  

Is it like her pills? Is it meant to stop her powers from working?  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Vanya breaths out, tells herself to calm the fuck down because panicking won’t get her anywhere. But how can she calm down when she’s restrained and shoved god-knows-where, alone, in the dark, left to wallow on her panic and fear? 

She blinks up to the ceiling, tries to do something useful and actually looks around. It’s a small room, a shoebox of a thing, with sturdy metal walls and sturdy metal panels, a tiny window positioned in front of her, in the box’s door. It’s familiar, in some sort of messed up way.  

The tiny window tugs at something in the back of Vanya’s head, her deepest memories, tells her _you’ve been here before, you’ve been here before-_  

Has she been here before?  

 _(Dad’s presence, tall and menacing, hovering over Seven, hovering over Three, a promise of a threat that Seven can’t quite understand just yet._  

 _“Do it, Number Three”_  

 _“I heard a rumor you think you’re just ordinary”)_  

Oh. 

Vanya’s been here before.  

She screams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to Sami_the_Dragon for their comment back in chapter 4 suggesting putting vanya back in the sound proofed box :(
> 
> also, i think two more chapters and that's it!!!!


	9. I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hello, this is ridiculously long and also took me forever to write, sorry

Vanya screams. 

She screams her throat raw, kicking and twitching and trashing, maiming her wrists with how hard she’s tugging at the handcuffs restraining her, yelling, shouting for help.  

 _Help, help, please, somebody help me, let me out, please, please, I’ll be good-_  

Vanya tries her damnedest to break out, but she can’t. Her powers come and go in waves, blotched, weak. Nothing but a rattle of the lights, the dull echo of the box’s door being pushed back, the cot swinging back and forth ever so slightly. She tries, and she tries, but no matter how hard, no matter how much effort she puts into it, Vanya’s trapped. 

Her powers are gone, dulled.  

She’s helpless. 

She’s useless.  

 

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe days- Vanya can’t tell. Not while she’s drowning in the box’s never ending quiet, never ending darkness. Some time goes by.  

The box’s door opens. Mom strolls in, smiling warmly.  

Vanya feels like she’s dreaming.  

Not always, definitely not always, but there are times when the sight of Mom’s perfect hair and pretty makeup feels all too overwhelming. This is one of those times. Because Mom’s good and nice and kind, and she always lets everyone get away with things that maybe they shouldn’t and she gives the best hugs and she’ll keep a secret if you ask her to and- 

“Hello, darling” Mom says, chirpy as ever. “How are you doing?” 

Mom’s-  

Mom’s the best.  

“M-mom,” Vanya starts, fighting the sudden lump in her throat. She wants to reach out and touch her, make sure she’s there. “Mom, you need to get me out of here, please” 

Mom’s getting her out. Yeah. She’s getting Vanya out and everything will be left behind and forgotten, everything.  

Mom cocks her head to the side, puts a hand over her waist. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry! You don’t need to be afraid. You'll be out and about in no time!”  

Vanya is worried. 

Vanya needs to be afraid. 

Vanya isn’t all that sure about being out and about in no time.  

Dad was angry. Dad did the unthinkable. Dad won’t ever let Vanya out and about ever again, won’t ever let her go on with her life, not if he can help it. Vanya knows. She just knows.  

Mom should know that, too. Mom should be rushing to tear the handcuffs open, rushing to help Vanya out. She shouldn't ask her not to worry, not to be afraid.  

But maybe Mom doesn’t know. 

Yeah. That must be it.  

Mom doesn’t know. 

Vanya shakes her head. “No, you don’t understand. Dad, he-” she stops long enough to gather her thoughts. She’s not even sure, of what he did, of what it entails. She just knows it’s bad. Wrong. “He shot me with this thing, with a- a- I don’t even know, but he- he shot me and he was threatening Klaus to-”  

Vanya stops. Freezes on the spot. _“What are you doing?_ ” 

Mom’s putting something in her IV bag.  

Mom’s putting something in her IV bag. 

It’s the same thing, the exact same thing Dad shot her with. 

“Mom! Stop!” Vanya shrieks, tugging at the handcuffs. Mom’s not supposed to do that, Mom’s not supposed to do that- 

 _Mom’s good. Mom’s kind. Mom’s the best._  

 _She’s not supposed to do that!_  

Vanya reaches for her powers and pushes, that exact same feeling engulfing her, the one that tells her she either fights or dies. She needs to get out of the box. Mom’s not going to get her out.  Now she knows. The only way to get out is using her powers. Now she knows. She needs her powers. She needs her powers. Vanya needs her powers, and Mom’s taking them away!  

 _She pushes._  

Mom stumbles backwards a couple steps.  

That’s about it.  

“Oh, silly!” Mom scolds, ruffling Vanya’s hair lightly while putting the little vial of medicine back on her apron. The damage’s done already. It’s dripping into Vanya’s blood. “That wasn’t very nice!” 

Vanya’s left panting, shaking.  

She's weak.  

She’s never getting out.  

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Mom leaves her alone.  

Mom comes back.  

She’s carrying a silver tray, with food.  

The sight of it makes Vanya realize for the very first time that she’s hungry. Awfully hungry. A sort of bone deep hunger she had never had a reason to experience before until now.  

There’s only one plate, a little bowl. It’s oatmeal.  

Vanya hates oatmeal.  

She eats every last drop of it.  

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Vanya’s losing her mind.  

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Vanya’s counted every single creak in the box’s ceiling a couple times already. There are three big ones, along with seventeen little spider cracks. From her powers, probably. There are forty screws on each wall keeping the metal panels together.  

There’s not much to do, inside.  

Vanya’s bored. She’s sort of itching for her violin, to stretch her fingers and play, play, play. She still owes Ben that song.  

The box’s door busts open.  

Vanya straightens up as much as she can. “Dad”  

He looks composed as ever. Tailored suit and close shave. Vanya used to think, before, there was nothing about Reginald Hargreeves that was dangerous. Not the way her siblings are, the way she is. To her, Reginald Hargreeves was all bark and no bite.  

Cold. Distant.  

Yeah, yeah, maybe he’s never had any trouble shoving or slapping or straight up punching if someone’s being too much of a smartass, but every parent does that, right? Vanya’s watched her fair share of TV shows and she thinks it’s not too weird, too out of the ordinary, for a fed-up parent to be cold and distant and shove and slap and punch. Wrong? Yes. But not uncommon. Manageable.  

But Dad had a dart gun.  

Dad put Vanya in a little box.  

Dad did- _something_ to Klaus during his personal training.  

That never happens on TV shows.  

“Number Seven,” Dad starts, pronouncing each word carefully. There’s an expression on his face that Vanya’s never seen before. Something angry. Exasperated. She wonders what’ll happen now. “Do you understand the implications of what you’ve done?” 

“Do I under-” Vanya parrots back, confused. “What?” 

Dad huffs, shuts the door behind him. It makes Vanya nervous. When Mom comes over to bring her food, she never shuts the door behind her. “You disobeyed, girl” 

Vanya stays quiet.  

“You had one instruction, one goal” Dad keeps on, restlessly pacing in front of Vanya’s little cot. “Just one. You had to take your medication and stay out of the way. That was the bane of your existence, Number Seven. Your reason for being”   

Her heart aches.  

She’s-  

Dad’s wrong. She knows. There’s more of her. Being Number Seven isn’t all there is of her. It never has been, even if it felt like it for the longest time. Because sure, sure, she’s Seven and even knowing she had powers all along she thinks she’ll always be an outcast to her family, always- because Seven’s small and Seven’s kept away and Seven’s never going to be like them, but-  

That’s not all there is of her.  

 _(But it is)._  

Vanya thinks she’ll never quite shake that feeling off her shoulders.  

Reginald stares down at her, watches her squirm. “You had one job, Number Seven. And you disobeyed. You stopped taking your medication. You lied to me, you spied on me, you-“ 

Vanya wants to shake that feeling off her shoulders.  

She looks up at him sharply, unwavering. “You drugged me” 

Dad hates being interrupted.  

She knows.  

She doesn’t care.  

“You drugged me,” Vanya repeats, and she can’t keep her voice from wavering. She was mad at herself, for not realizing she had powers. She was mad at Allison, for making her forget.  

She’s mad at Reginald, too. 

Maybe he’s the only one she should’ve ever been mad at from the beginning.  

Dad clenches his jaw, fists up his hands. “I did what I had to do. It was my responsibility to protect you, to protect the world”  

The answer comes almost instantly, inhumanly quick. Rehearsed. Practiced. Cold. Distant. And Vanya- Vanya's heard the line about protecting her and her siblings a thousand times already. Little somethings about keeping their best interest in mind, helping them develop to their full potential, doing what’s best for them. A whole bunch of bullshit. Nothing new there. But- 

The world.  

 _“-to protect the world”_  

That’s new. That’s definitely new. And he says it with such certainty, such innate conviction that Vanya could almost believe it.  

“What- _protect the world?_ ” Vanya spits, bewildered. She doesn’t understand what the hell Reginald’s talking about. The world’s not in danger- not like that, at least. Not the way he’s thinking. It doesn’t need protecting.  

Besides, “Protect the world from whom? From me?”  

It’s- 

It’s stupid.  

It’s stupid and even if she knows Dad’s nothing but a paranoid old man with some pretty insane delusions, she still fully expects him to bark out a sarcastic sound, some empty laughter and mean words. Call her egotistical and self-centered, ask her if she really thinks that highly of herself, if she thinks that highly of her powers.  

 _Ha, you’re not that powerful, Number Seven. Not that strong. You will never contribute in any way to something as big as the world’s fate. You’re not special._  

Vanya expects it.  

It doesn’t come.  

Instead, Dad levels her gaze. Adjusts his stupid monocle. “You will obey, Number Seven. I’ll make sure of it” he goes to leave, all self-assured.  

Vanya hates him.  

Not kind of, not sort of, not only a little bit-  

She hates him, hates him, hates him, with all of her being, with all of herself. That man is not her father. That man is cruel and sadistic and that man is not her father.  

Vanya fights the angry tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, wishing she could reach and rub her eyes. She speaks up, loud and clear, strong. “Or what?”  

“Pardon me?”  

“What happens if I don’t obey?” 

Dad stops at the doorway, looks at her with an unperturbed, cool gaze. He seems to truly think it over, as if the possibility of Vanya not submitting had never occurred to him. “We’ll see” 

 

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

There’s more oatmeal. More counting the walls’ creaks.  

Vanya doesn’t know how long she’s been inside her little box. It feels like weeks, months, years. Mom won’t tell her. Says it won’t do her any good to worry about silly things like that.  

She won’t tell her where she is, either.  

But she doesn’t have to. The fifth (sixth, seventh?) time she comes by, Vanya hears- loud, muffled, the unmistakable sound of Allison’s voice, shrieking something wild and unintelligible on top of some other dull noises that she only recognizes as punches being thrown because of the life she’s lived.  

It’s not an awfully odd sound.  

She hears it every other week when Klaus decides to borrow Allison’s makeup without asking, when Luther’s snoring too loudly and Diego goes to shut him up, when Klaus stashes _(used to stash- not stashes, used to)_ weed and god knows what else on Ben’s room-  

It’s just the sound of her siblings mundane fighting, living their lives.  

Vanya’s still in the house. She might just see her family again.  

She breathes out.  

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Vanya’s losing her mind. 

 

* 

 

Some time goes- 

“Mom, Mom, please, let me out, please” Vanya says, cries, begs. “Dad doesn’t have to know, I won’t tell him, I swear I won’t tell him, he doesn’t have to know, please” 

Mom walks out of the box for a couple seconds, leaves the little bowl of oatmeal somewhere outside before coming back. “Oh, sweetheart,” she mumbles, smoothing Vanya’s hair back and away from her forehead. “I don’t want you to be afraid”  

“Then let me out,” Vanya babbles, tiredly. “Just let me out”  

Mom’s hand freezes on the spot. She’s got a funny look on her face. Remorseful, Vanya would think, guilty, guilty, guilty. But, did Dad program those feeling unto her? Is she really capable of feeling those things?  

“I love you, Vanya” Mom says, all seriousness. Vanya doesn’t reply. “I was created just for you, did you know that? Reginald had me care for your brothers and sister because it was convenient for him, but I was made for you and no one else” 

Vanya blinks up, mutters some noncommittal sound.  

Mom goes back to stroking her hair, gently.  

“Why won’t you let me out?”  

Mom smiles big and bright and artificial, drops her hair and stands up straight. “Your father wants you here, silly! And he’s a great man! He always knows best!”  

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Vanya’s losing her mind. 

Dad shows up at some point, standing over her cot while spitting out angry words about her and her boldness and her stupidity and-  

 _I was told about the foolish little pact between you and Number Four, Seven. What were you thinking, Seven? It was one rule, Seven, one rule. And to throw it all away for Four of all people, Seven. Can’t you see he’s a lost cause? Can’t you see that his fate is written already? He’s an addict, he’ll always be an addict, he’s useless, Seven, just like you-_  

 _Useless. Weak. Pathetic._  

 _You’ll never do anything. You’ll never be special. The one thing you’re good at is clogging up space and resources, you’re a waste of time-_  

 _Useless. Weak. Pathetic._  

 _Seven, Seven, Seven._  

 

 

* 

 

Some time goes by.  

Vanya thinks she might be feverish.  

Her head hurts and her back hurts and her stomach hurts and she’s seeing white around the edges. She’s tired, awfully tired. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this tired before.  

She’s stopped trying to use her powers. She thinks maybe she never had them, maybe she made it all up in her head. What was she thinking? Seven doesn’t have any powers.  

Seven’s useless.  

Seven’s weak. 

Seven’s pathetic.  

There’s nothing special about her. 

She just wants this torture to be over. She wants out of the box’s cruel walls, out of this never-ending nightmare. If she closes her eyes (or even if she doesn’t) she can almost see Dad standing there, scowling, growling, yelling-  

But in her mind, in her fantasy, he’s the most beautiful sight she has ever seen. The most comforting, and warm, and perfect. “ _Are you ready to obey now, Seven?”_  

Seven’s ready.  

She’ll be good. 

 

* 

 

The box’s door bursts open.  

It’s different, this time.  

Seven looks up and there’s Dad, right on time to do that thing, the thing where he shows up and stands there and calls her all sort of names until he gets tired and leaves and shuts the door and ignores her begging, her pleas to be let out. But it’s different, this time.  

He’s not alone for once.  

Seven breaths out a shaky sigh, straightens up as much as she can on her tiny cot, very pointedly ignoring the way her neck cramps up and screams and hurts. She smiles, she grimaces. She doesn’t cry.  

“Three” 

Three’s there, alright. Standing next to Dad with eyes wide as saucers, staring right into the box’s darkness as if she’s seen a ghost. It’s an odd sight. But Seven’s almost certain she’s not hallucinating. Not this time, anyway.  

Dad grabs Three’s arm and yanks her forwards, pushes her until she’s crowding Seven’s space, so close she could reach out and touch her. She doesn’t look happy.  

Seven forgets, for a second, that she’s tied down. She lifts up a hand, or tries to, at least, because her sister’s right there and she hasn’t seen her in god knows how long and there’s nothing she wants more than to reach out for her and hug her tight. But she’s tied down. She can’t. 

The handcuffs rattle loudly and Three’s eyes zero in on them. “Oh God, you-” she breathes out, and it feels like the words are leaving against her will. “Vanya”  

Seven cocks her head.  

That name means something, doesn’t it? 

Three turns around to face Reginald with something of a horrified expression on her face, sharp and desperate. “You’ve been keeping her here the whole time? She’s been here the whole time?”  

He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even blink.  

Three turns back around, grabs onto Seven’s wrists with shaky hands and starts tugging at the handcuffs blindly, without any real purpose. It hurts, a little bit, chafes the already worn skin. But, oh- 

Oh. 

Three wants to get her out.  

That’s nice. That’s really nice of her, even if it won’t work.  

Seven feels something warm and loving and soft blossom on her chest. Dad won’t let her out, and Mom won’t let her out. And maybe Three won’t let her out, either, but- _she wants to._  

That’s something. That’s more than Seven thought she’d ever get.  

 “Number Three” Dad says, as a warning.  

Three doesn’t react, though, doesn’t stop tugging at Seven’s restrains. It occurs to her, suddenly, that Dad doesn’t want to let her out and maybe he won’t like whatever idea is going through Three’s head, whatever hastily, half-shaped plans to get Seven out of the box she might have.  

Seven shrinks back, tries to get her wrists out of Three’s hands.  

“Number Three,” Dad repeats, louder, sharper, angrier. He grabs Three’s shoulder tight, maybe tight enough to bruise, yanking her backwards and away from Seven. “Don’t think there won’t be-” 

But Three fights back. _“Don’t touch me!”_ she shrieks, doing something quick and complicated and the next thing she knows, Dad’s the one who’s stumbling and Three’s the one who’s standing tall.  

He regains his balance quickly, too quickly. “Number Three!”  

Three’s breathing heavily, loudly. Seven doesn’t know what to do.  

Three’s eyes jump across the box’s walls, her shoulders shaking. There’s not much, inside the box. So Seven watches as Three focuses on the only thing beside herself and her little cot. The IV stand. Three launches herself at it without a second thought, desperate and unhinged.  

It happens fast, so very fast. But Seven cranes her neck and just manages to catch a glimpse of Three’s hands digging through the IV stand’s basket.  

She pulls out a pair of scissors.  

They’re big and shiny and new, and Seven thinks Mom must have left them there, when she helped her cut through her uniform and change into softer clothes. Dad’s eyes widen, and Seven’s eyes widen, and Three ignores them both. She walks over to Seven’s bedside without hesitation, sticking the sharp end of the scissors on one of the cuff’s ends, where the cuff loops around the cot’s bars.  

She’s trying to use them as a lever, Seven realizes dumbly, to get her free. She knows it’s the right idea, but she also knows it won’t work, because yeah, yeah, Three’s strong, but she’s not that strong. Maybe if she were One. But she’s not.  

Seven wants it to work, though, she wants the handcuffs to snap in half and break and crumble and she wants to be free. She pictures them breaking. 

She pictures them breaking, and they do.  

A tight, uncomfortable feeling makes its way into Seven’s chest. Tight, and constricting, and begging to be let out. Electric. She pictures the cuffs breaking under the scissors pressure, and they do.  

Funny.  

Three stares at them, dumb-folded and confused, before shaking her head and mind out of whatever she’s thinking. She runs over to Seven’s other side, ready to snap the second cuff. But- 

“Number Three, I thought I made myself clear before” Dad’s saying. He’s pulling something long and slender out of breast pocket. Oh. Oh. It’s a gun. It’s the gun. “Step away from Number Seven”  

“No”  

“Number Three-”  

Three eyes the gun warily, slowly puts the scissors down. It’s for the best, Seven thinks, it’s for the best. There’s no way Three can fight against Reginald’s dart gun. There’s no way he’ll ever let her out if she disobeys. It’s for the best.  

Three sighs, defeated. She looks sad. “Don’t call her that. She has a name” she mutters, a worn, tired sound. “I have a name. We all have names”  

Dad quirks an eyebrow.  

Seven thinks-  

 _(Three’s jumping up and down, a wide smile brightening her face. “I have a name! I have a name! I have a name!”_  

 _“What-? What do you mean?”_  

 _“Mom gave me a name!”_  

 _Seven doesn’t understand. Can’t quite keep up with Three’s exited blabbering. She doesn’t understand. But- Three looks happy and cheery and chirpy and Seven doesn’t care. She doesn’t even have it in her to feel jealous, to wonder why Three and not her._  

 _She laughs, Three’s happiness is infectious. “Well- tell me your name!”_  

 _“My name is-”)._  

Dad’s staring on, and on, and on, daring, so very angry. Staring at- 

Seven chokes out a moan, low on her throat. “Allison, Allison” 

Allison’s there in a second, crouching next to the cot, rubbing her hands over Seven’s shoulders. She’s whispering some nonsensical things, little meaningless nothings. “It’s alright, I’m here, I’m here. You’re okay-” 

Seven thinks-  

She’s not Seven, is she?  

She’ not. 

Not anymore.  

Hasn’t been for a very long time.  

“C’mon, Number Three,” Reginald’s saying, tapping his foot restlessly against the floor. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. Do what I asked you to do”  

But if she’s not Seven? Then who is she?  

“I don’t want to”  

“I don’t care”  

Seven thinks-  

 _(She’s blinking up at Mom, absorbing every single word she’s saying. “It means ‘gracious gift from God’ because you’re very gracious, and you’re a gift!”_  

 _“And it’s- it’s my name?”_  

 _“Yes, darling. It’s all yours”)._  

Allison’s pressing her fingers against her mouth. Very clearly trying to push down tears and cries and groans. She looks scared, small. Too small. “Vanya, I’m sorry,” she’s saying, brokenly. “I’m sorry” 

Oh. 

That’s right.  

She’s not Seven. She’s Vanya.  

“I don’t have all day” Dad spits out, abruptly. “Get on with it, girl”  

Vanya blinks up at him lazily, confused. She doesn’t understand. But-  

She does, doesn’t she? It’s just like before. Just like before, except this time Dad has a dart gun, and meaner words. But. It’s just like before. Dad’s presence, tall and menacing, hovering over Vanya, hovering over Allison, a promise of threat that Vanya understands all too well.  

“Do it, Number Three”  

 _(“I heard a rumor you think you’re just ordinary”)._  

Allison sobs.  

It’s an ugly sound.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”  

Vanya’s disoriented.  

Vanya’s dizzy.  

Vanya’s tired.  

Vanya’s nauseous.  

Vanya understands. 

She reaches tentatively, reveling on the fact that her right hand is free now, she can move and stretch and reach if she wants to. She reaches tentatively, and holds Allison’s hand in hers, squeezes. “It’s alright,” Vanya says, numbly. “It’s alright, just do it”  

Allison’s shaking her head side to side, sobbing, crying. But Vanya understands. She doesn’t want to live out the remainder of her days inside this little box. “Just do it, Allison. There’s no other way”  

Dad’s back at tapping his foot restlessly, waiting, waiting, waiting.  

Allison opens her mouth, “I-” she starts, fearfully. “I heard a rumor-”  

Vanya lets her eyes fall shut, tells herself to think nice thoughts. There's no reason to get all worked up, to fear, and cry, and dread. This happened once before. It’s not the end of the world. She waits for it, waits for the words to leave Allison’s throat, waits to go back to being small, and afraid, and useless.  

It’s alright.  

It’s not the end of the world. 

Reginald huffs an annoyed sound, “Hurry up, Number Three”  

Allison stops crying.  

Just like that.  

Vanya opens her eyes, and-  

“Oh, you-” she breaths out, she laughs.  

Allison’s wearing one of those looks. All bright, and bold, and capable. She’s wearing one of those looks she wears right before rumoring you to hit yourself and do her chores for a month while thanking her. A little cold, a little selfish. Undoubtedly hers.  

Vanya laughs.  

Allison looks at her square in the eye, curls her lips upwards in an almost unperceivable smirk. It’s something of a conspirational smile, a sisters thing. “I heard a rumor you know just how extraordinary you are” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!


	10. Where is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember how i said this was the last chapter? uhhhh turns out i lied, this thing keeps getting longer and longer, it's like it has a mind of its own and wants me to keep on writing forever :) :) :) also,,,, plot? i don't know her 
> 
> bye, enjoy

Allison says the words.  

Vanya hears them, loud and clear. And then she- 

She drowns in the feeling. That feeling, that nagging tingling at the back of her head, the unmistakable feeling of a rumor taking root and spreading through her consciousness- it's something cold but not that foreign, a sense of being shaped and molded. Vanya drowns on that feeling, until Allison’s words are all that is, all that matters- all that is, and all that has always been. And it doesn’t even- 

It’s not like that first rumor, the one that started it all.  

It’s not.  

Vanya knows it’s not, because back then she had been young and alone and scared and naïve, but now she knows enough, understands enough- she knows she’s being rumored. She also knows, with a bold kind of certainty, that if she were to push hard enough against the rumor’s edges, then she’d be able to break it. Allison didn’t mean for her rumor to be restricting, limiting.  

No, this rumor feels different.  

It feels more like-  

Something like a shove, a gentle shove in the right direction.  

“Vanya?”  

Vanya blinks up at the sound of her name being called, makes out Allison’s expectant face, nervous expression. She’s holding herself warily, and Vanya thinks she understands why she’d be worried. She used one of her rumors on her sister, after all, and the words she chose- 

“Vanya, are you okay?”  

Allison sounds more than worried, desperate, even.  

Vanya can’t quite find her voice yet, though. 

The words Allison chose- 

“Vanya, just tell me if-” 

“You insolent brat! Can’t you follow an order? I gave you a very simple instruction, Number Three! I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this nonsense but-” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

“Number Three! You will not speak to me in such manner!” 

Silence.  

Vanya watches as Allison and Reginald stare down at each other. There’s something ugly, full of hate and resentment in both of their faces. Vanya feels like she’s floating, somewhere far, far away. The words Allison chose, they're- 

Reginald speaks up, “Do what I asked you to do, and do it now!” 

Allison’s stubborn, though, “You can’t make me!” 

The words, they’re- 

Vanya knows she’s extraordinary.  

She knew it already.  

She’s known it since Ben died, she’s known it since she found Klaus sneaking into her bedroom late at night to steal her pills, she’s known it since she saw the despair and helpless misery on her brother's eyes and decided to do something about it, since she stopped taking her pills and the coincidences were a little too concurring and remarkable to pass as just her imagination.  

She’s known it since she found out she has powers. 

She knows she’s extraordinary, extraordinary the exact same way her siblings are.  

But. 

Allison’s rumor. 

The words that she chose-  

Reginald adjusts his grip on the dart gun, lifts it up, up, up, and jams it over Allison’s chest in a harsh movement. It’s got to hurt. “Do it now, girl!” 

Allison doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t lower her gaze in the slightest. It’s something admirable, the way she keeps her chin raised high and doesn’t waver, doesn’t react in any way to acknowledge the gun pressed tightly against her chest.  

“No,” she says, with no hesitation.  

Reginald huffs, angry, and annoyed. He places a finger over the gun’s trigger in an exaggerated and wide motion, probably just to show Allison what he can do. 

“I don’t care,” Allison blurts, and it sounds like she means it and can’t quite believe it, her tone incredulous but sure, breathless. “I don’t care, do whatever the hell you want to do, I’m not doing that to my sister” 

That seems to piss him off.  

“She’s not your sister,” Reginald spits, grinding his teeth so hard that Vanya can faintly hear the sound of it, within the box’s overwhelming silence. “And the rest are not your brothers. You’re not siblings, none of you. You’re not siblings, and I’m not your father, I only allowed you to grow up with those stupid and childish ideas because-”  

Allison’s breathing hard, heavy, “We’re siblings. We’re family. You can’t take that away from us” 

“I’ll take everything away from you if I want to!” Reginald yells out, angry in a way Vanya’s never seen him. He’s shaking, almost, crowding Allison’s space, standing tall and menacing. “I gave you everything, child, can’t you see? And I can take it away!” 

Allison shakes her head side to side, laughs, humorlessly, “You can’t, not this”  

“Yes, I can” Reginald says, with a certainty that’d be difficult to dispute. “Everything you have, and everything you are, I can take it away. The only reason you’re alive and well, living the way you live, today, is because I allowed it. If I want it, then you’re nothing” 

There’s some truth in those words, isn’t?  

Allison’s furrowing her brow, and Vanya knows, she just knows Allison doesn’t mean to bite the inside of her cheek, to twist her fingers nervously against her thighs. Allison never shows it, when she’s getting nervous, scared. But still, Vanya can tell. Maybe Reginald, too.  

He smiles, wide and terrifying, “Do as I say, Number Three”  

Vanya doesn’t like the look on Allison’s face.  

She shouldn’t be scared, ever.  

And Vanya- 

Vanya knows she’s extraordinary.  

There’s something poking at her mind, at her consciousness, at her soul, or whatever- there's something nagging and persistent, something that’s been echoing around her head since hearing Allison’s rumor. Because she knew she was extraordinary already! She knew! 

But the words-  

 _(“I heard a rumor you know just how extraordinary you are”)._  

Vanya knows she’s extraordinary.  

But- 

Just how? 

“C’mon, Number Three,” Reginald glowers, shaking the dart gun side to side. “Or would you rather I gave you the same treatment as Number Seven? As Number Four?”  

Allison clenches her jaw, looks down at Vanya.  

And Vanya- 

All of the sudden, the world stops spinning. She feels dread, low on her belly, sticking to the furthest corners of her being. She doesn’t like Reginald’s words.  

Same treatment? As Number Four? 

“What did you do to him?” Vanya asks, her voice raspy and unused.  

There’s an implication there that she doesn’t like one bit. Reginald said, before, that he knew about their sobriety pact- and she hadn’t stopped and wondered how he knew, but, but, but Four- Klaus. Klaus wouldn’t have told him just like that. And yeah, yeah, the rest knew, but- “What did you do to him?” 

Reginald barely glances down at her, barely acknowledges she even spoke.  

But he did something. Of course, he did.  

Vanya pictures Klaus, alone and scared, just like her. Maybe stuck somewhere else, his own little prison cell, no one to talk to, no one to cry into, spending hour after hour after hour wondering if he’d ever get out, if he’d ever see the light of day ever again. And sure, he’d have Ben with him, but maybe that’d make it worse. Knowing their brother is there, but unable to reach him.  

Vanya pictures Klaus, suffering the same way she’s been suffering, hurting the same way she’s been hurting. She doesn’t like it one bit.  

“What did you do to him?” She repeats, louder this time, bolder, sitting up tall and proud in her little cot, making herself appear as big and towering as she can. She thinks she hears- _something_ , metal, wooden, plastic, something shaking, clicking, rattling. The cot, maybe? The handcuffs? The box itself? The house? 

Reginald’s gun is aimed at Vanya’s chest, in an instant.  

Vanya feels her blood boil.  

How dare he, aim his puny little gun at her? How dare he, lock her away in a little box, take her powers and her life away from her? How dare he, put fear on Allison’s eyes, hurt Klaus in any way?  

How dare he, take them from their mothers’ arms and raise them the way he did?  

How dare he? 

Reginald’s looking left to right, up and down, looking more and more nervous by the second, “Number Seven, stop it at once!”  

Vanya does not stop it. She’s not even sure she could, if she wanted to.  

The box’s walls creak and groan, something loud and mechanic, awfully strident. Vanya watches, dimly aware that she must be the one doing it, as the ceiling caves and hunches- the light panels shattering in a thousand pieces. She barely pays it any mind. Her blood is boiling. Her heartbeat is very loud.  

“Vanya!” Allison shrieks, lifting her arms high up in the air and using them to shield herself from falling pieces of debris. Reginald does the same, beside her.  

Vanya goes to stand up. She can’t. There’s still a cuff looped around her wrist. The same stupid cuff that held her hostage for god knows how long. She hates it. She hates it, hates it, hates it! Hates it with the same burning passion she hates one Reginald Hargreeves! 

She reaches for her powers and pours all of her hate into that cuff.  

It crumbles.  

Snaps neatly in half and then crumples, the thick metal curling and bending.  

She’s free now.  

It feels almost surreal, unnatural, to plant her feet flat on the floor and stand up to her full height, her spine straight and strong. She feels like a ghost, a hollow shadow.  

She’s free now.  

Allison’s looking at her with a petrified expression, a bitter mix between fear and admiration, adoration. When she speaks it comes out like a whisper, “Vanya, your eyes...”  

Vanya doesn’t know about her eyes. All she knows is that her blood is boiling and suddenly she can’t stand the sight of that man, of the man who hurt them time after time, the man who took her powers away from her and made her into a scared little girl.  

She advances towards him, slow and steady, strong.  

She thinks she can hear it all, the sound of his blood pumping, his heart beating, the tiniest whimpers he keeps humming, low on his throat. She could grab that, and squeeze. Squeeze his neck and squeeze his heart and keep on squeezing and squeezing until there wasn’t anything left at all to squeeze.  

She could.  

“Number Seven! Stop it! Stop it right now, girl!” Reginald’s screaming, his face scrunched up and trembling. His grip on the gun does not falter, does not waver. 

He fires.  

The dart goes flying.  

The dart stops.  

It stops, hovering over the air a couple inches away from Vanya’s chest, a couple inches away from the gun. Vanya lets it hover, makes it stop dead on its tracks. The expression on Reginald’s face is something she had only ever seen in her imagination, in her wildest dreams and fantasies, and the most far-fetched daydreams- silly dreams she used to have, picturing seven children against one man, facing him.  

It’s fear, on his face.  

Pure, unaltered, unfiltered, and utterly undeniable fear. See what he does now, Vanya thinks, see what he does now, without his puny, little dart gun? She feels something of a thrill, knowing she’s the one who put that expression on his face, who made him feel as small as he always makes them feel.  

“Where’s Klaus?” Vanya asks, plain and simple.  

Reginald sputters, tries and pretends to hide his fear, keep some semblance of control. Vanya sees right through it. “I will not answer any of your questions, Number Seven! If you want any kind of information about anything at all you will earn it! You will obey!” 

“Where’s Klaus?” 

No reply.  

She could obey, could earn the information. But she’s-  

She doesn’t want to obey, to earn things. Not anymore. Vanya’s suddenly aware of the fact that the little dart isn’t in front of her anymore. It’s flying up ahead, hovering high over her head, spinning erratic circles around the box’s walls along with the broken lightbulbs and the broken handcuffs and the scissors and the everything.  

Is she the one who’s doing that?  

She must be.  

Vanya raises her voice, raises her power- she's getting anxious, “Where’s Klaus?” 

Reginald doesn’t answer, and then it’s not only the box’s walls, that are crumpling. She can hear it, loud and clear, as the house shakes and groans and creaks, vases shattering and chandleries swinging, she can hear the faint startled shrieks of Diego and Luther and Pogo, and the quick fire of Mom’s heels clicking away and rushing everyone towards the exits.  

She doesn’t know where Klaus is.  

She can’t hear him.  

Why can’t she hear him? 

“Where’s Klaus?” Vanya hisses, cries, begs. Her voice sounds foreign to her ears, too high, too low, alien and frighteningly inhuman. She doesn’t care, though.  

She doesn’t know where Klaus is.  

Vanya’s breathing heavily, panting, heaving. _“Tell me, tell me tell me!”_ she shrieks, and every single flying piece of broken lightbulbs and broken handcuffs and now broken scissors, every single flying piece changes its trajectory, stops spinning circles and aims itself an inch or two away from Reginald’s head.  

A threat, if she’s ever given one.  

Reginald’s shaking, almost, clutching his little gun as if his life depended on it. And Maybe his life does depend on it, Vanya thinks, because she feels drunk with power, and so far, that little gun is the one and only thing that has successfully stopped her.  

She doesn’t know where Klaus is. 

Allison’s squeezed herself tight into the box’s furthest corner, staring at Vanya with a mismatched mix of emotions. She pays her no mind. Then she can hear the sounds of Diego, and Luther, and Pogo, and Grace, fighting among themselves-  

 _(“Where is she, Pogo?”_  

 _“Children! There’s no time for this! The building might-”_  

 _“Where the hell is she-”_  

 _“Don’t try and tells us this isn’t her! “)._  

She pays them no mind. Ignores them completely as they yell and scream and demand answers, ignores them completely as Pogo stutters out some sloppy excuses and half-truths, ignores them as they get restless and scared and even Pogo and Grace start shaking with fear, with anticipation.  

She makes the house shake, makes it scream and suffer.  

It occurs to her, suddenly, frighteningly and bright, that she could end it all, if she wanted to. Bring the house down and end it all- no more curfews, or silent breakfasts, silent dinners, no more muffled crying into pillows late at night, no more slaps, or shoves, or punches, no more hurt, no more Umbrella Academy. She could end it all. She could be free, they all could be free.  

“Vanya, you need to calm down. You’re losing control”   

It’s Allison, her voice as small and harmless as it’s ever been, very clearly trying to make herself appear innocuous, non-threatening. It feels good, to hear her voice like that. Vanya smiles, “I’m not losing control,” she says, because she’s not. She’s never been more in control before, in her entire life. Ever.  

She could end it all.  

She fishes out one half of the scissors from up in the air with her powers, brings it to rest insanely close, close, close, close to Reginald’s neck, just because she can. She loves the way he squirms.  

“Number Three,” he mutters, angry, without taking his eyes off her. “Would you do as I asked you, now?”  

Allison shakes her immediately, no hesitation.  

Vanya’s free to do as she pleases.  

She wants to kill him. Wants to hurt him, and make him scream, and cry, lock him up for days and days and days on end inside a little metal box with sound proofed walls, feed him once a day and take him away from everything he’s ever loved. She wants him to know pain, the way he’s made her feel.  

“Vanya! Vanya, stop!” Allison hisses, a little louder now.  

She must not feel the way Vanya does, with her wants and needs of blood and pain and suffering, of letting the world crash and burn around her. But it’s alright, she thinks, it’s perfectly alright. Allison will come to understand, someday, or maybe she won’t. But it’s alright, because she understands the rumor now! The words!  

 _(“I heard a rumor you know just how extraordinary you are”)_  

Now she knows just how extraordinary she is! She’s strong, she’s powerful- powerful enough to bring the end of the world, and life, and creation, and time itself! She could raise a finger and destroy everything that has ever been, twist her chin and let the stars and the planets and the cosmos come crashing down, she could raise her arms high above her head and suddenly life wouldn’t be no more! There’d be an explosion, or implosion, or a wave, or maybe nothing at all! There’d be something, and then there’d be nothing! 

Now she knows just how extraordinary she is.  

She pushes the scissors into Reginald’s neck slowly, surely, barely gracing the skin. Blood bubbles up in the surface, staining the blade deep red and terrifying- she doesn’t like the sight of it. It wakes some primordial part of her that tells her to hide and run and fear, and she hates it, but she does not hate the way Reginald hisses and groans, and the way he can’t hurt her in any way at all, not now, not ever.  

She hisses a low sound, “Tell me where Klaus is” 

She thinks she can hear Diego’s voice, swimming from somewhere up ahead, spitting angry words, hear Luther’s occasional quips, and harsh remarks, the way neither of them sounds one bit sure of themselves. She can hear them, getting closer, insanely closer, and she wonders if Pogo finally upped and told them where she is. He must have, otherwise their feet wouldn’t be trampling down the basement’s stairs.  

Reginald sputters, takes a step back. Vanya lets the scissors follow him.  

She hates him.  

It’d be so simple, to pour her power into that hate.  

It’d be so simple- 

“Vanya-” Allison.  

Vanya turns to look at her, smiles something small and reassuring, “It’s alright”  

Allison shakes her head side to side, her movements frantic and scared, her voice whiny, and high, “No, Vanya- _you're going to kill him! What do you think you’re-_ ” a resigned sigh, “You can’t do that, he’s still our father”  

“He won’t tell me where Klaus is”  

“I know where Klaus is!”  

Vanya blinks, breathes out.  

The pieces of glass and metal and scrap drop to the floor in a heap, a loud clatter. She turns to Allison in less than a second, forgetting all about Reginald and her blood-thirst for the time being. She needs to know where Klaus is.  

Allison falters, steps back.  

“Where is he?” 

“I’m- I- I mean, I’m not sure? But-”  

 _“Where is he?”_  

The box shakes, the panels shrink in on themselves.  

“He’s fine!” Allison yells, desperate. “I’m not sure where he is, but- I saw him- I saw him yesterday! Or the- the day before, I’m not sure! Before, he was gone too-” she shots Reginald a sharp glare, full of hate “We didn't know where he was, but- but- he’s back now! And he’s fine! Vanya, he’s fine! I swear on my life, he’s fine”  

Vanya stops, considers it.  

Allison keeps rambling on, and there’s an edge to her voice, something close to tears, “I saw him and he was asking about you, and- and I didn’t know where you were so I told him and he kept asking and he was really upset, and I think he must have been high or- or maybe drunk, because-” 

Then. 

Something happens.  

Vanya fears, Vanya hurts, because Klaus can’t be high and Klaus can’t be drunk. They had a pact, they had a thing going on, something that was theirs and theirs only, and something that never should have been broken. Klaus was sober. Klaus is supposed to be sober.  

She doesn’t get the time to cry about it, because something happens.  

Luther and Diego’s echoing footsteps and chatter stop existing somewhere far away and distant, and suddenly they’re there- there, standing five feet away from the box’s open door.  

They freeze, and Vanya freezes, and Allison freezes, and Reginald freezes. It’s a long moment, where everyone’s very clearly choosing whose side to take. Diego raises a knife but doesn’t throw it- instead, he holds it tight, aimless.  

“Children-”  

“Luther-”  

Allison and Reginald talk over each other. They shut up.  

Vanya doesn’t move, at all. She knows what she must look like. Starved and crazed, torn handcuffs hanging limp from her wrists, some ten odd pounds lighter, wearing nothing but a medical gown- and something about her eyes?  

Diego steps forwards, all and angry and self-righteous, “What the fuck is going on?”  

 


	11. Not again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, I'm bringing this back

It happens like this. 

Reginald springs into action. Reginald yells, and screams, and shouts. Reginald calls her every single name imaginable, every single name under the sun. He calls her a nuisance, calls her a danger to society, calls her a hazard and a threat, screams out his throat raw about her powers and how they need to be contained, they need to be contained and shaped and molded, _or else, or else, or else, or else-_  

Luther and Diego stand there, dumbly, listening to their father’s yelling.  

They don’t move a single muscle for the longest while. Neither does Allison- or Vanya, for that matter. They stand there, dumbly. Listening and listening and listening.  

This one time, Vanya thinks, this one time Reginald’s words feel far more empty than they usually do. Meaningless. Worthless. The ramblings of a deranged man. Not a single sentence coming out of his mouth makes sense, to her ears.  

He locked her in a box. 

He did something to Klaus, hurt him. Took away his sobriety.  

If someone’s a danger and hazard and threat, it isn’t her. If someone needs to be contained and shaped and molded, it isn’t her. Reginald has no business acting the way he does, yelling the things he’s yelling.  

It happens like this.  

 _“-I never should have taken you in! I should have let you rot, child! That silly little girl who birthed you wanted to throw in the trash and forget all about you, did you know that? I should have let her! It would have been better for everybody! I should have-”_  

Vanya decides it’s enough.  

She struts forward with as much conviction as she possibly can, passes both Reginald and Allison and steps out of the box.  

Everyone tenses. She doesn’t blame them. 

Reginald finally, finally shuts up, stares at her with a horrified expression on his face, as if it had genuinely not occurred to him that she could get out if she wanted to. He walks out, too. Then Allison, behind him, hesitantly, scared.  

No one moves.  

No one breathes.  

They all stare at her, expectantly. Waiting for her next move, her next decision, her next surge of power. Vanya decides it’s enough.  

She turns around on her heel, quick- maybe too quick to have done it without her power’s aid. She turns around on her heel and faces Reginald all of three feet away from her, standing right in front of the box’s crumpled entrance.  

She smiles, something twisted and relieved, lifting both of her hands slowly, so very slowly. Then it’s just a matter of finding that feeling deep within herself and _pushing-_  

Vanya pushes.  

Reginald goes flying.  

He lands deep inside the box, limp, like a rag doll. There’s a sickening _crack_ that might have been his hip or his spine or his neck, and Vanya smiles, she smiles, big and bright, because she does not care to find out. She reaches for her powers again and brings what remains of the box’s walls together, makes it crunch and crash and crumble and twist until the metal is covering the entrance completely.  

There, Vanya thinks. There. He’s gone now. He’s gone now, and he can’t hurt anyone anymore.  

She has half a mind to notice her siblings screaming their lungs out, yelping and yelling some nonsense that she doesn’t pay all that much attention to. Luther runs towards the box in an instant, starts pulling at the twisted panels. He manages to move them- a little, just a little. But it seems to her like for all of his super strength, he can’t actually do it all that effortlessly. The metal is just too robust. Vanya bashes in the knowledge that she’s been stronger than her strongest brother this whole time.  

She turns around on her heel and heads for the outside, looking for a way out from whatever hell hole her damned cage was in. Diego is in front of her in an instant, blocking her way, “Vanya,” he says, maybe a little fearfully, over-enunciating each syllable. “What the fuck”  

It doesn’t even sound like a question.  

She flicks her wrist and suddenly he’s flying, too. She’s gentle, though, she’s gentle because she thinks, she thinks she still cares for him, about him, and she doesn’t want him to be hurt. He crashes against the wall, flops down to the floor and does not move to stand up, too busy staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.  

Vanya doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t even look back towards the sounds of crunching metal and Luther and Allison’s panicked cries, trembling movements ( _“Luther, drop it- I don’t think he’s-” “Shut up, just- fuck, shut up! How can you even think about-” “You saw how he had her!”_ ).  

She walks out of the room.  

It’s a maze. She’s never been here- only when she was a little kid and it’s not like she remembers all that much besides that feeling of impending doom. It’s an endless maze of hallways and passageways and identical walls made out of stone. She knows she’s in the house because she hears it all, but she could swear she’s somewhere else entirely with how different from the rooms she grew up in everything is. She thinks she could get lost, too, if she wasn’t extraordinary.  

But she is, and she doesn’t.  

She walks through the maze until she finds some beatdown stairs and goes up them, finds herself in a tiny, cramped room she can just barely recognize as the living quarters down in the basement. Probably somewhere close to Pogo’s bedroom.  

She passes through some old training rooms, through the laundry room, through the kitchen, until she’s going up the stairs and standing right in the middle of the foyer.  

She needs to find Klaus.  

Why can’t she hear him?  

Vanya trudges through the academy’s hallways, throws open every single door to every single room using her powers, pushes and pushes and pushes and almost brings the walls down with the effort, the agitation, the fear. She can’t find Klaus.  

She looks for him the living room, and he isn’t there. She looks for him in the dining room, and he isn’t there. She looks for him in the study hall, and he isn’t there.  

She blinks back unspilled tears.  

She takes a deep breath.  

She tries not to scream.  

She can hear it all. The old pipes chumming, the distant hum of electricity running through the walls, the cars outside, the people, their words, their whispers. She can hear her siblings, yelling at each other as if that ever did anything for anyone, and Pogo and Mom, standing just outside the house, just outside the backdoor, waiting, anxious, dreading.  

She can hear it all.  

Why not Klaus, though? Why can’t she hear him? 

It’s only when she walks into his bedroom out of some sort of sense of desperation (-because she knows he isn’t there, she knows), it’s only when she sees the giant hole she punctured between his and her own bedrooms when trying to save Allison from Reginald’s dart gun is still there, still full of debris and dust, and still uncovered and ugly, that she starts to fear. He'd never leave his bedroom like that for so long, she thinks, and she fears, but most importantly- 

She sees him. 

She sees him, through the window overlooking the courtyard.  

Laying on his back next to Ben’s statue, eyes open and unseeing.  

She sees him, limp and empty and quiet, and far too still, and she can’t hear him.  

“Klaus?” she croaks out, and it feels like the word is ripped from her throat. She’s down there in less than an instant, infinitely fast- in the blink of an eye, and if she didn’t have a fuzzy memory of sprinting down the stairs and through the living room, she’d think she jumped, just like Five used to do.  

She’s there, and Klaus is there, and he’s not moving.  

She can barely make sense of what she’s seeing, and then it’s harder, because the sky darkens and groans and shifts, and then it’s raining- pouring, really. Thick drops of water falling in quick succession, clouding her sight and her senses, and her mind, too.  

Everything feels foggy and thick, insanely confusing, like some nightmare she can’t wake up from no matter how hard she tries. Klaus is there.  

He’s not moving.  

She takes a tentative step towards him, trembling, afraid.  

She can’t hear him, no blood rushing through his veins, no heartbeat beating away, no minuscule movement and shifting. _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._  

She thinks- 

Vanya thinks-  

Vanya thinks she knows what that means.  

She walks closer, kneels down by his side. There’s a strong smell in the air that she chooses to ignore, because- it's alcohol, and it’s weed, and it’s putrid, and it’s rancid, and- _Klaus is sober._ He is sober, isn’t he? He is supposed to be sober. They are doing something, together, and he is sober.  

Vanya ignores the smell and kneels, placing her right hand just so over Klaus’ chest.  

There’s no heartbeat.  

She knew that already, of course. She would’ve been able to hear it from a mile away. She knew. She knew. She already knew, but-  

 _But-_  

Vanya-  

The courtyard’s door being snapped open forcefully. Diego- no, Allison. Diego _and_ Allison, stumbling out into the outside, their feet tapping restlessly. “There she is! See? I fucking told you she was gonna be here!”  

“Shut up, Diego! It’s not like it was a competition”  

“I’m just saying you wanted to look in-”  

“I heard a rumor you shut the hell up about that already!”  

Blessed silence.  

But not really.  

Vanya-  

She clenches her hand into a fist, clutching a fistful of Klaus’ shirt tight enough that she feels her nails digging into her palm even through the fabric.  

There’s no breathing.  

There’s no heartbeat.  

Diego and Allison step closer. She lets them, too numb to do much of anything. Diego’s pathetically croaking out some noises, groans, half-words, and she doesn’t know if it’s his stutter acting up or just Allison’s rumor- too vague to let him speak properly.  

Vanya can pinpoint the exact moment that Allison notices exactly what’s going on. There’s a gasp, a pained moan. “Oh, god” Blurted. Raw.  

She stumbles backwards, clasps a hand over her mouth.  

Vanya doesn’t bother looking up. 

“Shit, not again” Diego hisses, low, quick, after an instant. Then he’s kneeling down and pushing Vanya away, checking Klaus’ nonexistent pulse and barely wasting a moment before clasping both hands together and pushing into his chest with a rhythm. 

Up, down.  

Up, down.  

Up, down.  

Vanya watches, transfixed.  

Diego doesn’t stop, not even when it becomes obvious not much of anything’s happening. “I thought you said he was sober!” he barks, angry, desperate, throwing both Vanya and Allison an unreadable look- something far more emotional than whatever Vanya’s come to expect from him over the years.  

Vanya doesn’t reply.  

She spares Allison a glance, and there she is, looking so oddly unlike her herself, her hair flat and mostly straight and stuck to her skin with rainwater. “He was,” Allison says, voice wobbling. “He was, but you- you saw how he was, when he came back” 

Diego doesn’t stop pushing into Klaus’ chest, but the movement stutters, almost stills, for half a second. “The fuck do you mean when he came back?” he asks, incredulous. “This is the first time I’ve seen him since the old bitch went crazy and took him away” 

Silence.  

“Allison!”  

More silence. But Allison’s-  

Her lip’s quivering, and her eyebrows are drawn tight together, and there’s not a trace of doubt in Vanya’s mind she’s going to burst into tears- she kind of wants to burst into tears herself.  

She turns to Diego, tough, brokenly. “He took Klaus?”  

Diego startles, blinks at her as if he had seriously forgotten she was there. He nods. “Yeah, same as you. We thought you two were dead,” he says, clenching his jaw, very pointedly not looking down at Klaus’ limp body. “Even Luther wanted to call the cops”  

“Oh”  

Diego goes back to ignoring her, turns to Allison. He’s got to be getting tired of doing CPR. “Allison, c’mon! The fuck do you mean when he came back? Wh- w- wh- when did you-”  

“I don’t know!” Allison blurts, shaking her head side to side. She’s crying now, hiccuping. “I- I don’t know. I saw him two days ago, and he- he was asking about Vanya and he wouldn’t tell me where he was! I just assumed-” she sighs, a broken sound, hysteric. “He had one of Dad’s bottles so I just left him alone”  

Diego nods, mostly to himself, the movement a little too butchered to be considered casual. “Okay, okay” he says. “Okay, so the old man had him in some cage just like he had Vanya and when he broke out you just let him go and get drunk, and now he’s-”  

Allison looks away.  

“Shit,” Diego says, suddenly, “Shit” and just like that, he takes his hands away from Klaus’ chest and lets himself fall backwards until he’s splayed out almost parallel to Klaus.  

“What are you doing?” Allison urges, horrified. “Don’t stop!”  

Vanya doesn’t protest.  

There's nothing to do now, is there? 

Diego takes a breath, “He’s fucking dead, Allison”  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I honestly abandoned this for six moths


	12. I didn't do anything

It feels like a lifetime ago, all of them crammed up in one of their tiniest bathrooms, crammed up and uncomfortable and scared, surrounding their brother and realizing he had done the worst thing he could have done, Diego saying those exact same words.  

_ He’s fucking dead, Allison. _

Allison had rumored Diego into trying again, last time. 

She doesn’t do much of anything now.  

There’s nothing to do. 

Vanya finds her eyes drifting towards Ben’s statue, and she wonders, detachedly, if he’s here. She never got Klaus to outright admit it and say it out loud, but she’s pretty sure Ben’s been hanging around since the very first second he came into being as a ghost.  

He’s got to be disappointed.  

He’s got to hate them, each and every single one of them. Vanya, most of all- because if it weren’t for her and her powers and her disobedience, then Klaus wouldn’t be laying unmoving under the rain to never wake up again. It’s very obviously her fault.  

She shrinks into herself, hides her face between her knees, and focuses on nothing but the thunder and lighting and the feeling of water hitting against her skin, the knowledge that she’s weak, and small, and perhaps not ordinary but very much useless and afraid, little Number Seven time after time.  

“We should get Luther,” Allison says, abruptly, after way too much time goes by. “And Mom” 

Diego grunts, doesn’t move to get up.  

“Where’s Mom, anyway?”  

Allison waits for an answer. Diego ignores her.  

She sets her jaw, hiccups something shaky, “Vanya, did you see where Mom was?” 

Vanya shrugs, doesn’t look up.  

She considers standing up and walking away, away from the Academy and away into the street- just walking away right in that instant, no plan, no purpose, no nothing. It’s childish, but she doesn’t want to stick around, not when Five is gone, and Ben is gone, and Klaus is gone, and nothing she tries to do won’t ever fix their stupid family and their stupid mistakes.  

She wants to be gone, too.  

She wants-  

Vanya stills. 

Vanya stills, stands up a little too swiftly and makes a point of ignoring both Allison and Diego’s startled yelps- she stills, and wills the rain to still, and, for some reason, it does.  

Everything goes quiet and ragged and motionless.  

Diego drags himself to his feet, “Vanya?”  

He sounds nervous, again, and Vanya is just sure he’s wondering whether or not she’s gonna burst again, let her powers lash out. It’s an incredibly silly thing to worry about, she thinks- because it’s not like he could do anything at all if he wanted to stop her, anyway.  

She pays him no mind. 

There’s something-  

There’s a faint stutter, weak.  

She pushes all of her power into  _ hearing _ , hearing it all- and it’s almost overwhelming, the amount of little noises she doesn’t really pay attention to in normal circumstances. It really can’t be it, but she can almost convince herself she can hear a thousand and more heartbeats, the sound of every single person in the city living their lives.  

There’s also-  

Oh.  

There’s Reginald’s, somewhere in there.  

Luther dragging him out of the box, checking him over. He’s fine. Mostly fine. The crack when she threw him away wasn’t his spine, then, or his neck. Vanya’s mildly disappointed- annoyed, more than anything, and she does want him dead but not nearly as intensely as before.  

But that’s not the stutter, the weak noise she’s hearing.  

The noise is sluggish, bursting to life with a sort of lethargic energy she just can’t describe. It feels unreal, unnatural, something that is but by all means shouldn’t be.  

It’s-  

It’s blood, she realizes, the steady flow of blood. No heartbeat. Just blood, circling around, moving ever so slowly, gushing and gushing and gushing.  

She cranes her neck downwards, stares at Klaus with something fierce.  

A pained moan is torn from her lips.  

She kneels back down again, places her hand over Klaus’ chest- still no heartbeat, no nothing. He’s cold to the touch. But she can hear-  

The decision to reach for her power is fully instinctive, a split-second thing with no thought poured in.  

_ She pushes.  _

Klaus’ body jostles, spasms and twitches.  

This, Vanya thinks, this is so much better than CPR. 

“What are you doing?” Diego shrieks, horrified. He all but throws himself at her, grabbing her shoulders and attempting to drag her back and away from Klaus. He only half-succeeds because she’s distracted, busy, focused on one and only one thing. It’s only a moment, though, in which Diego grabs her and roughs her about. Vanya flicks her wrist and sends him away, as easy as swatting away an insistent fly.  

She turns back to Klaus and  _ pushes _ again, pushes and pushes. It’s really not her imagination, when the weak stutter grows infinitely stronger- the sound of it almost deafening, gurgling and twitching in a way that has her shuddering with anticipation. She’s not wrong about this.  

“Vanya, stop!” and there’s Diego again, his face scrunched up and angry, afraid. He doesn’t understand, and she doesn’t care to explain. “Stop, wh- wha- what ar- are you-” 

He trails off, defeated. Vanya suspects it’s only because he’s taken to straight up shutting up whenever his stutter’s particularly bad. He sets his jaw, though, marches up to her.  

Vanya swats him away again, goes back to what she’s doing.  

Then it’s Allison, kneeling down slowly, like she’s talking to a spooked animal, a little thing that’s going to bolt or lash out without a moment’s notice, something weak. “Vanya, just- just stop, please” 

And-  

Vanya gets it, more or less. She gets it because they don’t understand, and they must think she’s getting off on defiling their brother’s corpse, pushing him around with no care, but- the way Allison looks at her, the way she’s trembling and shaking and shivering, numb and too shocked to react properly to the situation at hand, the way she doesn’t seem a  _ single ounce of afraid. _

Allison opens her mouth, and Vanya can see the words before they’re spoken.  

_ “I heard a rumor-”  _

Vanya whips her head up, “ **_No!_ ** ” 

She pushes Allison away, and she doesn’t use nearly all of her power’s strength, but it’s something ugly, and messy and she fears for Allison’s wellbeing for the briefest of seconds, a scream caught somewhere in her throat. She-  

She doesn’t regret it.  

Allison looks up, doubled over, and there’s the fear. There’s the fear Vanya wanted, but she sees it, and she can’t understand why she wanted it.  

Diego runs over to Allison’s side, hoisting her up a little too roughly.  

There’s a second or two of tense silence, but then Allison sobs out, insanely loudly, and Vanya just knows it’s not because she’s physically hurt- it's pain, alright, but it’s something deeper, something deep in her mind and in her soul. It’s funny, how the sound seems to drown out everything else.  

Allison ends up latching onto Diego’s chest, burying her face there, crying brokenly.  

Vanya clenches her jaw, watches.  

She doesn’t regret it.  

She watches as Diego pats Allison’s back awkwardly, looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. They've never been particularly close, Allison and Diego, and she’s willing to bet Allison’s only seeking comfort from him because he’s quite literally the only person available. Because Five is gone, and Ben is dead, and Vanya’s just not an option. Luther’s somewhere in the house, unwilling to leave Reginald side, like a scared little child. Klaus is-  _ well.  _

Vanya almost feels bad for her. Allison never cries.  

Diego stares right at her, coldly, and she does her best to pretend not to notice when one of his hands trails downwards and comes to rest on his thigh holster, over the hilt of a knife, shiny and sharp. 

It’s a silent threat, if she’s ever seen one.  

The sight breaks her heart in a way nothing’s ever quite managed to, and she doesn’t know what to do, how to react to it. She’s strong, stronger than Diego is or will ever be. He can’t hurt her, even if he were to try. But it’s not really about that, is it?  

She wants to feel guilty and sad and disappointed, but all she feels is a sort of quiet acceptance, that very same numb rage that follows her everywhere since the very first day she made the earth-shattering decision to stop taking her pills. It’s not a loud feeling, not really.  

It’s more like-  

It’s as if everything she is and everything she tries to be always comes back to this- to her, hurting people, ruining things, being pushed back and away, torn from her family. She's beginning to accept it as a fact of life. No matter the circumstances, she’ll always make it worse. Always.  

But not all of it is her fault, she thinks, somewhat desperately.  

Vanya shoots Diego a pleading look, and when she speaks, her voice comes out hoarse and broken, “I can’t let her rumor me again” she says, barely a whisper, and she can’t look away from Diego’s big brown eyes, wide and afraid, guilty. “I just can’t, Diego. I can’t”  

And she knows Allison wouldn't take her powers away from her again, not after everything they’ve been through. The rumor she tried- it probably was something silly, unimportant, like ordering her to relax, to breathe in, to think things through, act like a rational human being.  

But Vanya won’t let herself be rumored again.  

Even if it’s something stupid and inconsequential.  

Diego stares at her for a long while. Long enough that Allison’s cries turn into soft hiccups, whimpers. “Then don’t give her a reason to” he spits, overenunciating the words.  

Vanya chokes out a burst of hysterical laughter, and she feels some light rain spritzing by over their heads again, the wind picking up. “I didn’t do anything!” she cries, standing up. “Diego, I didn’t do anything!”  

“You-” Diego starts, hissed, low. “Vanya, I think you fucking killed Dad”  

She didn’t.  

But-  

She squares her jaw, doesn’t spare Allison a glance when she untangles herself from Diego’s arms and wipes weakly at her eyes. “He had it coming, Diego” she says, breathing heavily, walking closer. Her words pick up an unsettling tone, too flat for whatever emotion it is that she’s feeling. “He- he locked me away. He had me chained in a cage. He made Mom drug me. He-” 

“I know!” Diego snaps, interrupting.  There’s something dangerous in his eyes, something broken. “I fucking know, but you can’t just go around killing people because you feel like it! That piece of shit’s our fucking father! And you just-” he cuts himself off with a croak, leaves his lips parted open while staring at her incredulously.  

“He had it coming,” Vanya repeats, sure.  

Diego takes out his knife, abruptly, and Vanya can see it in the shaky way he carries himself that he’s not really planning to use it. It’s just an empty threat, born out of fear and desperation.  

“Guys,” Allison complains, frailly, with not all that much effort.  

They both ignore her, easy.  

“You’re fucking insane, Vanya” Diego tells her, and it seems to her as if it’s paining him to say it. “If you did that to Dad you could do it to any of us”  

Vanya shakes her head side to side, resentful. “No”  

“No?” Diego echoes, a breath from mocking. He turns to look at Klaus down in the ground, points at him with the hand he’s got fisted around the hilt of his knife. The blade twinkles in the light. “Then wh- wha- what about him, huh? What were you doing to him?”  

“I didn’t do that!” Vanya hisses, angry all of the sudden. Thunder rumbles above them. “I didn’t do that, Diego! Dad did!”  

And he did. 

It doesn’t matter if Klaus was the one who brought a bottle to his lips, the one who sought out pills and powders and syringes. It’s Reginald. It’s all Reginald. The very root of his addiction, of his troubles, of his pain-  

“It was him, Diego!” Vanya says, harsh and low. She watches her brother, and her sister, and she can’t understand their blank looks, the little glance they share, the way they speak without speaking. Her breath's coming in ragged and heavy. “Dad did that!” she screams, and she points at Klaus, lying unmoving, vacant. “Dad did that! It was him!”  

Diego takes a step forward. “Vanya,” 

Vanya steps back, “It was him, Diego! Him! Not me! I- I didn’t do anything!”  

She feels the ground beneath her feet tremble, shake, quiver- it’s not difficult to ignore it, deem it unimportant. If the earth wants to open up and swallow her whole then it’s fine by her.  

“Vanya," Allison says, softly, tentatively. “You need to calm down”  

“Or what? You’ll rumor me?”  

Allison flinches back, wounded.  

But it’s- it’s true, isn't it?  

It’s true.  

Not a single word Vanya’s saying is untrue.   

Allison takes a breath, spares Diego a short glance. Then, “I’ll do what I have to”  

Vanya huffs out, almost amused. “Right,” she says. “Right”  

It’ll always be like that, won’t it? Numbers One through Six, together, happy, supporting one another and accepting their own flaws as simple inconveniences, harmless- but not Number Seven, never Number Seven. Seven’s meant to be alone, to be miserable and useless.  

For a moment there, she thought maybe Four-  

_ Klaus.   _

She thought maybe Klaus could help them see, understand. Because- yeah, yeah, the rest of their siblings don’t exactly trust him, but they trust him more than they’ll ever trust Vanya, listen to what he has to say more, care for him more. He’s their brother while Vanya’s just another number to their list.  

But now!  

It doesn’t matter, does it?  

It doesn’t matter because Klaus is laying on his back, dead and broken and empty, and it doesn’t matter if his blood is gurgling and fluttering around for some unexplained reason, because he’s just not-  

There’s another noise, now.  

Loud.  

Vanya forces herself to take a breath and calm down, make the thunder die out, the rain and the trembling stop dead on their tracks. The noise is-  

A heartbeat.  

Vanya wants to believe it.  

She gives her back to Diego and Allison, kneels down slowly and almost reverently. Time seems to slow down. “Klaus?” she breathes, like a prayer.  

Diego shifts around, sighs resignedly. “Vanya, not again, please- just leave him alone”  

It’s-  

Klaus shoots upwards.  

Vanya startles, stumbles backwards until she’s lying on her ass, her legs sprawled out in front of her.  

It’s-  

“ _ Son of a-! _ ” Klaus starts, loud and whiny. His eyes are clouded and unfocused, and he wastes no time turning to the side and puking his guts out with no care. “Jesus, fuck, what the-”  

“Klaus!” Allison gushes, airy, and she rushes past Vanya to his side. Diego, too. They bombard him with questions, a thousand meaningless nothings that surely only serve to disorient Klaus further. Vanya barely registers their blabber.  

Klaus’ heartbeat is loud and steady, its thumping piercing. It wasn’t there, before. Vanya’s-  

Vanya’s extraordinary, and she knows for a fact it wasn’t there before. It puts things in perspective, in a way, because- that one time, all those months ago, in the bathtub? Luther and Diego swore Klaus didn’t have a heartbeat. They all assumed it was weak, barely there, too small to be felt by fingertips. But now Vanya’s thinking maybe-  

Maybe Klaus was dead, that one time. Really dead.  

He sure was dead this one time.  

Is it his powers, then? More than just ghosts? 

She-  

“Vanya?”  

A soft whimper.  

Vanya looks up and there’s Klaus, looking at her with wide open eyes, wet. His face scrunches up for half a second, clouded over with pain, and Vanya doesn’t understand until she does.  

“No,” she says, hurried and soft. “No, no, Klaus, it’s okay, I swear, I’m-” she straightens up and crawls on her hands and knees until she’s close enough to touch. “I’m alive, Klaus. I’m fine, I promise”  

Diego and Allison both sit still, watching their interaction with open interest, curious.  

Klaus is-  

Klaus doesn’t look like he believes a single word she’s saying.  

So she does the only sensible thing she can possibly do- 

She throws herself forward, wraps her arms around Klaus’ shoulders.  

“Oh,” Klaus breathes.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: Do we want everything to be sweet and happy after this? Or do we squeeze out a little bit more drama?


	13. That was before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to popular demand: have some more _drama_!!
> 
> Also, heads up: there's nothing explicitly shown, but Reggie confesses to some not so nice things he's done in the past that might be upsetting...  hover over the underlined text if you want to know the specifics, if you're on mobile.. uhhh sorry

Turns out, Reginald did lock Klaus away.  

He put him in some sad little cage just like he did with Vanya, and even though he refuses to even acknowledge the question whenever someone asks him _where_ \- Vanya's pretty sure it wasn’t anywhere near the house. She would've heard him, she thinks, in those moments when Mom opened the box’s door to feed her or help her bathe.  

Reginald grabbed him, right after Vanya, dragged him kicking and screaming out of the house and into some hellish nightmare he won’t speak about. It breaks her heart, to see him shaking and afraid, and unwilling to listen when they inform him he’s just came back from the dead.  

There's also a soft little, “ _it’s the longest he’s ever left me in there_ ”, muttered, probably not meant for their ears, anyway- but Vanya hears it all, and she hears Klaus’ words. They make her see red, make her seethe and cry out and wish she had finished what she started when she threw Reginald against the rock-solid walls of the cage of his own making. 

That’s why when he shows up, after minutes and minutes and minutes, she’s almost glad.  

She knows he’s coming before Diego, or Allison, or Klaus do, of course.  

Knows the rhythm of his breathing, the tapping of his shoes.  

She feels like she’s got enough time that she could turn to her siblings and explain, beg them to move and walk away, escape their sorry excuse of a father once and for all without the need of another single confrontation. They’d do it, if she asked. Not for her, no- but for Klaus, maybe, for themselves, because no matter what they might say or do, no matter how many horrid things they might accuse her of- they hate him too, always have, always will.  

They could all leave.  

Leave him wondering.  

But there’s also Luther, isn’t there?  

And, far more importantly, she thinks, there’s also the fact that Vanya suddenly feels an overwhelming need for closure, for cruelty and punishment. _An eye for an eye-_ Five would’ve said, in another life.  

An eye for an eye.  

Vanya stays quiet, holds on to the sleeve of Klaus’ soaked jacket, ignores Allison and Diego’s incessant blabbering, the pained and plain concerned looks they keep throwing her whenever she presses herself to Klaus’ side. Reginald gets closer and closer, Luther at his feet.  

When he steps through the courtyard’s doors, Vanya’s already focused on him, her eyes sharp and steady, latched on his own, and maybe she enjoys it a little too much when he squirms and startles, nearly losing his footing and stumbling on the steps.  

He looks-  

Disheveled is one word for it.  

But-  

She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him looking anywhere near the way he looks now. His hair a tousled mess, his clothes torn and stained with both dried and fresh blood, oozing from a ragged cut on his bicep. The way he holds his arm close to his chest-  

It’s broken, his collarbone almost beaten to a pulp, fragments of bone grinding together so very loudly. 

He looks weak. 

“Shit,” Diego mutters, somewhere beside her. “Shit” and he glances at Vanya somewhat hysterically, no doubt realizing his threats and accusations from earlier hold no meaning if their father isn’t actually dead, killed by her hand. Vanya feels nothing but some vague exasperation.  

She’s got Klaus now, nothing else matters.  

“Number Seven!” Reginald hollers, so very angry. “ _You insolent brat!_ ”  

Klaus steps forward, nearly stumbles while swatting Allison and Diego’s helping hands, “Hey, shut your piehole, asshole!” and the words would almost be comforting, but they come out crooked and broken, with no energy. He still looks weak and pale and shaky, insanely worn.  

Reginald scoffs at him, as if he’s some filthy thing stuck to the bottom of his shoe- annoying and tiresome, but ultimately unimportant. “I should’ve put bars on that crypt”  

Klaus pales, backs away with a short, involuntary movement.  

And Vanya-  

 _A crypt._  

That’d make sense, wouldn’t it? A soundproof box to torture her through her powers, a decaying crypt swarming with pests- with _ghosts_ , to torture Klaus through his powers, all in true Reginald Hargreeves fashion, never doing anything halfway.  

There’s a tense silence, for a moment.  

Luther walks around until he’s standing somewhere between the bunch of them and Reginald, in the middle ground, not here nor there, unwilling to take a stance.  

“Number One,” Reginald calls, never taking his eyes off Vanya. “Please restrain Number Seven at once”  

Luther stands there awkwardly, unmoving, only shifting to stare at Vanya, wide and afraid, but- but not of her. For her, then? It’s a little hard to tell. “Dad, just-” he starts, voice small, childish. “What’s going on? Can you tell us what’s going on, please?”  

Reginald squares his jaw.  

She sees, out of the corner of her eye, as Allison makes an aborted movement, stepping towards Luther but thinking better of it in the last second. Diego stands in front of her, blocking her way.  

“I will not be questioned, boy” Reginald says, huffing, angry. “I gave you an order and I raised you better than to disobey”  

“I know, I’m sorry! But Dad-” 

“No!” Reginald snaps, “I don’t want to hear it. Do as I say”  

Luther keeps looking between him, and her, and Vanya can see just how conflicted he is, fighting to decide where to place his loyalty. The man who raised them? Or his sisters, his brothers, his family?  

It’s no easy feat, making that decision.  

Vanya remembers being thirteen years old, feeling a sort of burning betrayal, scalding hot and angry, realizing for the very first time Dad wasn’t just neglectful and distant- he outright didn’t care, didn’t care that Five went missing, didn’t care for any of them.  

They all went through something like that at some point or another, she thinks.  

And now Luther-  

“No,” he says, and he seems fascinated by the word, new and magical. “No, Da- sir, just- no"  

Reginald watches him, a silver of disappointment in his eyes. “Very well, then” he says, his tone almost delirious, broken. “You’re hazards to the human race, each one of you. Mistakes”  

Klaus giggles something airy, hysteric. “I’ve heard that one before”  

“It’s true,” Reginald hisses, quick and angry. “It’s true! You more than any of them, Number Four! An abomination that knows to fear itself, its power! A filthy creature that-”  

Vanya steps forward.  

Reginald shuts up.  

She feels like she shouldn’t enjoy the stunned look on his face nearly as much as she does. “You’re the hazard,” she says, calmly, and she feels like she’s waited a lifetime to say those words. “The mistake, the abomination, the filthy creature- and you-” thunder, lighting, wind. (Diego moves to reach for her but doesn’t. “ _Vanya-_ ”) _._ Her voice quivers. “And _I_ won’t let you hurt any of us further”  

Reginald barks out a humorless laugh, resigned. “I doomed us all the day I allowed you to live, Number Seven. I should’ve put you out of your misery when I had the chance” he says, matter of factly, shaking his head side to side.  

And then, as if he’s savoring it, knowing where he’s aiming, enjoying it-  

The next words out of his mouth, “Just like Number Six"

There’s a split second of silence.  

No one moves, no one breathes, no one dares move a muscle.  

“What?” Vanya croaks out, stepping backwards and away, shaking.  

Reginald scoffs, huffs, “You heard me”  

The next several seconds are-  

Fuzzy.  

There’s gasping, and there’s shouting, and then there’s downright screaming- jagged breaths, and broken cries, a litany of hearts breaking and worlds shattering. Her siblings. _Her siblings, her siblings, her siblings-_  

She isn’t-  

She can’t even tell who’s speaking and who’s not. It’s violent and it’s painful, and it’s the aftermath of bringing something to light that never should’ve left the shadows.  

It’s fuzzy.  

Vanya can only be aware of the way her own heart’s beating, loud pumping in her ears.  

The thumping is deafening.  

She focuses on it because she doesn’t know what will happen if she doesn’t.  

She reaches for Klaus almost on instinct, finding his hand and holding on tight. She thinks her sight might be fuzzy too, clouded and unfocused, confusing- all shapes and figures that hold no meaning whatsoever. But Klaus is there. Klaus is there. He turns to look at her when he feels her hand on his.  

He parts his mouth to speak, wide eyed and crazed. Closes it. Turns back towards the commotion.  

Vanya clings to him, watches.  

“It was a mission!” Luther blurts, his voice booming, louder than everyone else’s. There’s something desperate in his tone that almost manages to frighten her. “Dad, it was an accident, it- it was a mission! It wasn’t-” 

“Don’t be stupid, boy!” Reginald says, interrupting. Everyone else more or less shuts up to hear what he has to say. “I arranged that! Number Six was always so- _useless_ , I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity for his death to actually mean something”  

“For his- _mean what?”_  

“A story” Reginald says, plain and simple. “He died a martyr, Number One. The Umbrella Academy hadn’t been this talked about since Number Five’s disappearance”  

Suddenly-  

Suddenly Diego’s got a knife held high, ready to aim and stab and kill, a knife pointing in Reginald’s direction.  No one moves to stop him.  

Vanya wonders, detachedly, where all of Diego and Allison’s objections about not hurting the man just because he’s their father went. But- she gets it, she thinks, she understands even when they didn’t. 

He’s their father, and they want him to live.  

He’s a murderer, a cold-hearted monster, and they want him to die.  

“You wouldn’t dare to,” Reginald’s saying, glaring down at Diego, even when his hold on the knife doesn’t waver. “You’ve always been too much of a coward, Number Two”  

Diego doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t breathe.  

Allison steps forward all of the sudden, standing tall and proud, full of an angry resolve. “Why?”   

It’s almost funny, stupidly hilarious in a way Vanya can’t comprehend properly, much less explain, that Allison is looking for a reason- there’s no reason, there won’t ever be a reason important enough that’ll justify Reginald’s actions.  

It’s just pain. 

Everything feels sharp and unfocused and Vanya wants to scream.  

There’s no reason.  

“Why?” Allison repeats, louder. Her voice wobbles this time.  

Reginald keeps quiet.  

Allison whimpers, and then- “I heard a rumor you told me why!”  

Immediately, Reginald’s eyes get that glossed over look, his expression lax and cooperative, empty. “He had little control over the creature,” he says, flatly. “Number Six’s weak character allowed the thing to take over whenever it so pleased. It was _dangerous._ It- it was maiming whoever the hell it wanted to maim, rarely the ones I ordered Number Six to _._ I tried to work around it. I tried to sedate him, like Number Seven. I tried it all until it was obvious there was only one sensible curse of action. I-” 

Vanya looks away, wills her ears to listen to nothing but the steady thumping of her heart. She doesn’t want to hear any of this, she realizes. Not a word.  

She wants to scream.  

She doesn’t.  

Everything’s ragged, broken, twisted. It’s like she’s listening to the words but can’t understand them. The implications too horrible and stupefying to be processed with a clear mind. It feels, once again, as if everything she thought she knew is crumbling down, swing after swing destroying their fragile little family, the delicate balance they operated around. 

She looks around, blinking sluggishly, Reginald’s words nothing but some distant blabbering in the depths of her mind. It takes her a whole lot of effort, but she manages to more or less tune him out.  

Klaus’ hand tightens almost uncomfortably on her own.  

And it’s-  

She turns to him and there he is- clenching his jaw, looking to the side, flinching away from Reginald, and there’s not a single hint of doubt in her mind that he’s taking in every single word, letting them sink in and slash and hurt and kill. His eyes are tightly shut, his brow furrowed. There’s a cold anger there, in his eyes, raw.  

And then-  

For the briefest of seconds- 

So quick that Vanya almost misses it-  

His hands glow blue. An overwhelming blue, unnatural but somehow familiar, welcome. It reminds her a little too much of Five and his jumps.  

It’s over, as soon as it came. But-  

During that short time, that deranged half-second, she thinks she could swear she sees-  

Next to Klaus, next to her, next to them all-  

 _Ben._  

Blue, just like he was in the bank. A flicker, a mirage.  

Gone as soon as he came, but there.  

There’s no mistaking now that there’s no imminent threat of random robbers waving guns in their faces, no distraction, no nothing. He’s a sight to behold, miraculous.  

Everyone sees him, understands it’s him.  

Even Reginald’s words end up trailing off mid-sentence, rumor be damned.  

A beat, “Klaus?”  

“Yeah?”  

She swallows down the sudden lump in her throat, “What- what was that?” 

Klaus manages to blink _up_ at her, somehow, full of something vulnerable and trusting, confused. “I-” he starts, and he looks around, seems to take in the fact that everyone is staring at him with wide open eyes. “I don’t- I don’t know, I-” 

He slips his hand away from hers, steps back on wobbly legs.  

“Was that-” Allison starts, weakly, mostly to herself, probably. “ _Was that-?_ ”  

Klaus keeps staring at this one point in particular, close to him. “No,” he’s saying, not to Allison but to someone unseen. To _Ben_. “No, I-”  

Then Diego steps towards him, slowly, slowly, slowly, his movements mechanic and absent. He places a hand in Klaus’ shoulder but then draws it back when Klaus flinches back almost violently. “Klaus?”  

Klaus hugs his middle, shakes his head side to side to side-  

“Klaus, can you-” Diego clenches a fist, looks down. “Was- was that-?”  

“I- yeah? But-”  

Several intakes of breath. Like being punched in the gut. Like how Vanya felt when she first realized Ben wasn’t all the way gone all those night ago. She thinks she’d feel like that all over again if she weren’t so busy feeling numb and cold, _angry_.  

Reginald huffs out, all of the sudden, breaking everyone out of whatever trance they were in, and Vanya turns to look at him, deadly still. “How very interesting,” he says, flatly, annoyed. “You finally make progress with your power, but you choose your little anarchic rebellion to do it. Perfect timing” 

“You shut up!” Klaus calls, furious, bitter, but then he swallows, and whimpers, and cowers. “You-” and it seems like the words are torn from his throat. “You killed him? You-”  

“It was necessary, Number Four”  

Klaus’ breath starts coming in big gulps, desperate and broken and painful, and it hurts, to see him like that. “It was not fucking necessa-” he laughs hysterically, blinking rapidly. “How can you say that? How can you- Jesus, it’s like- you never cared, did you? Not even a little bit” 

“I assure you,” Reginald says, without skipping a beat. “I always had your best interests in mind”   

Klaus deflates, breathes out and shivers. Everyone else, too. Eyes open wide and fearful expressions. Each one of her siblings, Vanya thinks, each one of her siblings carry themselves in that exact same way they always do every morning and every night, defeated, the exact same way that allows Reginald to step on them, and crush them, and maul their spirits, again and again and again, time after time, even though they are stronger, always have been.  

She tilts her head to the side, stares at Reginald curiously, “I’ll kill you,” she announces, an eye for an eye. He flinches back and she walks forward, decided and sure, and then-  

“Whoa, Vanya-” Allison’s there, clutching her arm, hissing. “We talked about this” 

Vanya huffs out, annoyed. “That was before”  

“So?” 

“He killed Ben!”  

“Yeah, but-” Allison swallows. Her hands are shaking. “It’s just like we told you, he’s still our-” he’s really not. “This is not the way! That’s not how-” and she turns towards Luther, “Luther, tell her”  

Luther’s still too busy being shocked and upset. He nods halfheartedly.  

“Diego?”  

Diego shrugs, and Vanya breathes out very slowly.  

Allison splutters, “Klaus?”  

Klaus blinks at them both, frowning, and he’s still shaking but he seems to swallow and push back and away his feelings, almost grateful to do so. “Wait, hold on,” he starts, high pitched, weakly. “When were you two plotting Dad’s murder and why wasn’t I invited?”  

“You were dead,” Vanya offers, apologetic.  

“ _We weren’t plotting Dad’s murder”_  

“It kinda sounds like you were plotting Dad’s murder”  

“We weren’t plotting-” Allison starts, cutting herself off with a movement that’s not quite a roll of the eyes but not quite a grimace either. “Diego, you nearly stabbed Vanya for killing Dad but now suddenly you don’t care?”  

“ _What?_ ” Klaus whines, scandalized, turning to glare at Diego. “You were gonna stab her? Not cool, bro. I thought we said stabbing was off the table after that time Luther almost got gangrene”  

“I wasn’t _actually_ going to stab her,” Diego says, and he does roll his eyes.   

“Guys,” Allison breathes, almost begging. “Diego-” 

Vanya-  

Vanya doesn’t know where this conversation is going.  

Diego huffs out, annoyed, “Well, what do you want me to say? Of course I don’t care! I-” he lowers his voice, whispering harshly, “I didn’t even care before, I was just worried Vanya was going nuts” 

Vanya turns her head very slowly, clenches her hands into fists and glares at him.  

Diego waves his knife around in her direction. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. Is that- that’s not normal, dude. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine” Vanya says.  

Klaus makes some noncommittal noise, low in his throat. He tilts his head to the side. “Yeah, we’re gonna revisit that later, Van”  

“I’m-” Vanya starts, breathing out. “I’m fine, alright? I’m-” but everyone’s looking at her funny. Even Luther and Allison and Reginald. She’s-  

 _Oh._  

Reginald’s got a gun.  

This one doesn’t look like a dart gun.  

It’s getting ridiculous at this point, the amount of power that she has, that they all have, and yet time after time Reginald dares to round them up and go against them, terrorize them and torment them, act as if he’s somehow the better person, the right to all wrongs.  

She almost whines, petulant and childish.  

“Into the house, now” Reginald says, waving his gun around. Then he catches Allison’s eye, “Not you, Number Three. You and I will have a chat”  

Is that his one and only plan? Try and convince Allison to rumor them all?  

It’s-  

It’s _stupid._   

“No,” she says, exasperated, and she makes the conscious choice to ignore her siblings’ fear and trepidation. There’s no actual danger here. She’s extraordinary.  

Reginald clenches his jaw, “Don’t force me to do something we’ll both regret”  

Vanya stares.  

Vanya stares and she wonders just how incredibly delusional and idiotic this man can be. “We’re not doing anything you order us to, ever again” she tells him, because it feels important that he knows.  

Reginald stands there, doesn’t reply.  

Klaus runs a hand through his hair, looking down, and he mutters something under his breath that Vanya doesn’t pay all that much attention to. He’s gotta be talking to Ben, anyway.  

No one else moves.  

She thinks-  

She thinks if she kills him-  

There’s no coming back from that.  

And she’s not properly worried for herself and all the ways murdering her own father might weigh her down and hurt her once she’s calmer, no, she’s-  

She’s thinking about Allison, and Diego, and Luther, and Klaus. She’s thinking they might forgive her, if she begs loudly enough, for long enough, in between tears and sobs, and whispered confessions, years of work and desperate explanations-  

She's also thinking-  

They won’t ever forgive themselves.  

 _Ever._  

They’ll always wonder, always blame themselves, hold it all feelings of guilt and anger not towards the executioner but towards one another, towards their own person, and Vanya-  

Vanya doesn’t think she can live with that.  

If she kills Reginald, if she forces her siblings to be unwilling accomplices of a crime they never wanted to commit in the first place-  

Is she better than Reginald, if she does that? If she takes away their autonomy and forces their hand, becomes what he is to them? Someone who spits out rules and conditions- who’ll never ask for agreement and consent before acting on their behalf?  

An eye for an eye, she thinks, and she wants blood.  

Ben might even agree with her.  

An eye for an eye, his death for Reginald’s. It’d be poetic, a perfect closure for an imperfect story. It’d be all of the suffering he put them through thrown right at his face.  

It's tempting, and delicious, and Vanya can almost taste its flavor.  

But would it be worth it?  

 _Would it?_  

She thinks of Allison and Diego, screaming, lashing out. She thinks of Luther, unresponsive and lax, staring off at some unseen point, hurt. She thinks of Klaus and Ben and Five and she thinks they were all _gone_ and she thinks she doesn’t want them to be gone ever again.  

Vanya steps back, looks down at the ground.  

“That’s right, Number Seven” Reginald says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, the smugness. Triumph, at last. “Now you will listen to me very carefully, because what I’m going to say I’ll only say once. You’re-”  

She’s-  

She's not sure what happens or how it happens, but the next thing she knows, Luther is launching all two hundred and something pounds of him forward, and he’s scowling, _growling_ , and he-  

He punches Reginald square in the face.  

Reginald falls backwards, limp like a ragdoll. His gun clatters uselessly to the ground.  

They all stare down at their very unconscious father. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @myeyesarenotblue


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